


In Need of Assistance

by merrabeth



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mickey has blond hair, Smut, and he's got money, i just added that, i think i should put this under sexual content, it's bad though, just for the next chapter, mandy's still mandy pretty much, things are getting flirty, wasn't expecting this to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrabeth/pseuds/merrabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU prompt by tumblr user sonuvapantsuit (man that's a hilarious name). Where Mickey's from a privileged background and has blond hair and Ian's the "south side scholarship charity case".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting Schedule

**Author's Note:**

> I changed a few things: 1.) Ian got accepted to a magnet school but with the same circumstances of scholarship acceptance I guess  
> 2) Mandy's still pretty much Mandy  
> 3) Not sure if Mickey was still supposed to be the smartass lovable man we know and love but I kinda made it so he wasn't...at least not at this point

It was gonna be a pain in the ass to get to school now; having to take the train early in the morning was something he wasn’t used to and he was pretty sure he’d never get used to. But he’d gotten accepted, so his oldest sister, Fiona, and brother, Lip, weren’t gonna let him turn down this opportunity.

Ian Gallagher, somehow ending up being the middle child in a family of six, was exceptionally smart. He knew it, his family knew it, and his teachers knew it. So no one was really surprised when he’d gotten accepted to Jones College Prep, a magnet school in the Downtown area. The school asked for transmits for kids who could be eligible to attend; seeing it was free to go there already, it was all about having the grades, and Ian had those. So yeah, it would take a little extra work to actually get there, but it would be worth it at the end.

And he ran down the stairs, almost instantly colliding with the glass walls of the building, only wishing that at least Lip would have been able to be there with him. Lip was a genius; he would have gotten in with flying colors. But with Lip’s records for attendance and lack of, they chose the next best thing: the ROTC cadet with straight A’s and B’s and “impeccable work ethics and a moral compass pointing toward a better life”.

“Besides,” Lip said the day Ian had received his acceptance letter, “I could get into college if I wanted to go. You’ll just have a better chance with going here.”

Ian walked in, completely surprised by his first day jitters he hasn’t gotten since 1st Grade. But then again, he thought, he hasn’t been the new student in a while. And starting sophomore year, second quarter, wasn’t really helping him out any. He’d be coming in when everyone has pretty much gotten used to the load they were force to be with. Here Ian was, adding to the list of people anyone would have to tolerate. And given his neighborhood? He could feel his heart racing. This couldn’t end well for him. A month or two- that’s how long it would take before he was out of there and back at his neighborhood school with his brother and his skanky slut girlfriend.

And before he knew it, a week was down. Ian was still getting acclimated by the end of the second week. He always did his homework and he always made sure he got it right, but the thing with this school was that they actually _gave_ homework. For every class, too. So he found himself in his room after school during the time that he’d be with Lip, smoking or doing some other shit they had no business doing.

Oh, and there was the issue of his background. Surprisingly, even in this new environment, gingers were a rare sight, so everyone was quick to ask him where he came from. Their school had rules that involved on how students could be enrolled and when they were able to. And he was breaking those rules by being there.

The work was actually hard and people kept their distance. Two more weeks is all he gave himself now. He accepted that it would only be two more weeks until he was back on the south side because acceptance and difficulty weren’t the only problems he had:

Geometry. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand that shit. And he would do the homework and Lip would check it, but by the time the tests came at the end of each week, he’d been damn near the bottom on the ranks of grades. That’s why he was sure. He wasn’t great with math in general, but he was pretty sure the test score from last week and the one he currently held folded up in his pocket this week would be the reason for him getting kicked out of Jones.

He never thought he would come to this point; no one in his family did. It’s just, no one in that family was really going around talking about school that often. They passed along with what they got. If anything, the only mention of school was grades, and no one was really having problems with that- until now.

Ian had walked into their room, slumped and ready to crash after a hard week of school. He threw the folded test at Lip, who sat on the desk next to Ian’s bed with the window open so the smoke wouldn’t get stuck in their room. He didn’t check to make sure that Lip noticed, he just fell onto the bed with his face planted in the pillow. He could instantly feel sleep covering over him and barely heard Lip mention something about a tutor, a _proper_ tutor, at school because he wasn’t gonna have his little brother leave that school.

Monday came around and Ian was ready to get on with the next to last week of his life here. He only barely remembered asking about the tutor, and felt some type of relief when his teacher had told him he knew exactly the person to tutor him. They’d meet after school that day to set up a schedule for that week (turns out Lip wasn’t the only one that wasn’t gonna have Ian leaving). He felt his luck was turning before anything actually happened.

Today had turned out to be his lucky day right after Geometry class. He had his Honors World Literature class and they were going to start a Dead Poets Project that would take place over the few weeks, doing a presentation every day.

The teacher had started the clock, telling them they had 30 seconds to find a partner. Ian stayed in his seat, letting whoever felt comfortable enough to approach him. And if no one came around, someone would be forced to work with the south side trash and he could deal with that.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised when, only 10 seconds in, someone slid to sit next to him. A girl with long, thick, black hair and black eye liner to match that contrasted with her blue eyes and cream colored skin. He remembered her name started with an M, was it Mindy?

“Mandy,” Ian stated as her red painted lips turned into a grin.

“Wanna be partners?” she asked, her eyes held as if she knew the answer to that question already because, why wouldn’t he want to work with her. She perked up a bit when he nodded with a smile, sitting forward and turning toward the teacher. They raised their hands to signify that they had found and were sitting next to their partners. Ian sighed in relief when he didn’t have to be the awkward one with his hand down at that moment.

His luck had continued on when Mandy had slinked her arm with his after he entered the lunchroom to guide him toward the table she sat at with her friends, a few other girls that looked a lot like Mandy in the fact that they never got out of their Middle School Goth phase, but they only had bits and pieces. Turns out that Ian wasn’t the only one that stood out, and as he met the flash of judgment over each girl’s eyes before he felt the smile that translated to acceptance, Mandy also stood out. If she had ever looked at him in the millisecond that he saw those girls look at him, it must have been at some unknown time.

Mandy was his savior for most of the day, making him feel more comfortable than anyone had in the past two weeks. On top of that, she didn’t ask him about the south side (well, she did make the comment that he didn’t look like he belonged there).

“We should probably meet up soon,” she stated at the end of the day, by his locker. She stood really close, leaning against the locker next to his. “I mean, I know we’re the last group to go but, I’ve never even heard of…” she paused, trying to remember the name of the guy they were given, “Henry Lisben.”

Ian chuckled. When Mandy looked at him with confusion, he corrected, “ _Henrik Ibsen_ ”. He absurdly remembered the name because it was something he wasn’t used to. The only reason he recalled Mandy’s name was because of her last name: Milkovich. It was a name he’d never heard before, and the flow of her name was what made him state the correct one at the given time. “But yeah, we could just hurry up to get started. Then we can add on when necessary. Did you have a place in mind?” He closed his locker and remembered as he started walking he had to meet up with whoever his tutor would be in his Geometry class.

Mandy quickened her pace to his, having to walk with quicker steps to meet Ian’s longer strides. “What about today at the library? We could get some frozen yogurt across the street at the DePaul Center?”

Ian looked to her with raised eyebrows. So far, her personality didn’t exactly fit her physical appearance. If she had some sort of reputation, he wasn’t getting a feel for that. But then again, no one exactly saw Karen Jackson as the massive slutbag type, but there she was, whorin’ it up while somehow managing to still be with Lip. He shook off his look to replace it with apologetic eyes and a slight smile. “Sorry. I have to go meet someone for…” he stopped himself, wondering how good it would be to admit that he wasn’t doing so hot in Geometry?

Mandy shrugged. “How about tomorrow then?” She chewed on her bottom lip.

There was a pinch in Ian that he felt instantly, and as soon as the idea sparked in his head while watching the persistence grow in Mandy’s features, he couldn’t shake it. Was it possible that maybe Mandy kind of… It would explain the day, her willingly choosing him when he was sure she had friends of her own that she could have done the project with, hauling him off to sit with her at lunch, walking with him to all his classes afterwards, running up to his locker afterwards, insisting they start their project when they’d be presenting at the end of next week. Was it possible?

No, Ian thought. It couldn’t be. And he shouldn’t have thought so highly of his freckle covered face to think Mandy would actually like him. Plus, even if he was a sex god in any sort, it wouldn’t matter because of one ~~fatal flaw~~.

He was gay. And he’d figured that out a few years prior. Lip found out a few months ago when his trashy skank girlfriend (or friend, whatever) hadn’t been able to get him up under the table while she went to blowing him. That was the end of the extent of who knew at this point, and it was necessary where he lived for very few people to know. But here? Wasn’t he supposed to be safe here? They were only a few blocks away from the gay neighborhood, and he was sure that the guys that worked at the library down the street were gay (he knew; they were obvious). But he barely knew this Mandy Milkovich. So even if he was safe, which he wasn’t completely sure if he was, he wasn’t going to come out to her. He was still getting shunned for being from the south side, everyone being afraid that he might thug out on them in some way.

“Is tomorrow not good either?” Mandy asked, and he tried to not notice the disappointment (or was it rejection) laced in her words.

“No,” he quickly comforted. “No, tomorrow should be fine. But I won’t know until I talk to this person. I can tell you tomorrow.”

“Or you can tell me tonight,” she informed. “What’s your number?” she asked, ending with a hip bump. Ian gave it to her for her determination. They could be great friends. They _would_. Ian could feel it.

So he knew his next words wouldn’t come out right. “I…don’t have a cell phone. Well, I share one with my siblings. Something about us getting our own when we’re 18,” he’d used that lie so many times it felt like the truth. The truth, however, was that he was saving up, working out the corner store in his neighborhood, Kash & Grab, on the weekends.

“You’re a mysterious character, Ian Gallagher,” Mandy ended with a sigh. “Fine. Find me tomorrow morning and tell me.” She caught him off guard when she slid her arms around his neck to pull him in for a hug. He hugged back and watched her run off towards the door behind them.

When he got to the classroom, it was completely empty. Ian groaned, under the impression that he got there too late and would have to try and catch up with them tomorrow. It probably would have made things easier if he’d know his tutor’s name.

He sighed, turning back around to leave the classroom when he collided with someone and hit his nose.

“Shit!” Ian hissed grabbing hold of his nose, feeling the sting spread throughout his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he could hear someone mumble. “I could say the same thing.”

When Ian took his hand away, letting the sting fade away, he felt his breath get caught in his chest. He noticed the guy’s golden blond hair first; the hint of a Mohawk or quiff, Ian wasn’t sure which it was. With his hand still trying to massage the pain out of his nose, the guy’s blue eyes were the next thing that struck Ian and they were mesmerizing, a light blue that could turn any shade from the glow of a sapphire gem to the brightness of a cloudless sky.

He finally took his hand away, sporting a patch of red as the blood faded from his nose and cheeks.  Shit, were those lips even real? They were a noticeable pink and full, giving his Fiona’s a run for their money.

“Mr. Lennon told me one of his students needed help with Geometry,” the guy spoke, one of his eyebrows arching sharply with a bit of annoyance. “Are you that student?”

Ian only nodded, not wanting to stutter over his words.

He smiled then. “Cool. I’m Mickey.” He stuck out his hand for Ian to shake, and Ian did his best to stay calm. He moved passed, and Ian followed to sit next to Mickey at a desk next to him. He realized then that he never introduced himself.

“I’m Ian. Gallagher.” He was surprised out how level his voice was. It helped him relax a bit.

Ian watched Mickey dig for something in his bag on the floor, watching how the black fabric of the shirt he wore stretched over and created defining outlines of muscles on his shoulders. He brought up with him a planner and pencil. “Well, Ian. Do you have your last test with you?”

His heart fluttered. “Oh. No. I thought we were just gonna plan out a schedule. I didn’t know we were gonna start today.”

“That’s the plan, man,” Mickey comforted. “I just wanted to know to see maybe what we should start on helping you with.”

“Well, I got a 62%.”

Mickey smirked, writing something down in his planner.

Turns out that being laughed at could take away any type of nervousness in a heartbeat. “Uh, what’s so funny?” Ian asked.

Mickey looked up with contemplation as he bit into his lower lip. With a shrug, he replied. “S’nothin’. Just thought that you’re doin’ better than I was at this point.”

“But it’s the second quarter.”

“Yeah, well it took me a while to grasp this shit.”

Ian opened his mouth, about to ask how this guy was supposed to help him with something he hadn’t even known that well to begin with. What grade was he even in?

“How many people have you tutored before?”

He bit his lip again, and Ian watched this time as the blood returned once the pressure of his teeth had been released. He wanted to watch it again and have it on automatic replay. “Counting you? One.” Mickey rolled his eyes as he watched Ian’s widened. “Relax, dude. I got it afterwards. And I’m a boss at math; but all these fuckin’ shapes just made shit confusing. Wait til you start learning about proofs. I felt like a dumbass with that. But hopefully, you won’t.”

“Hopefully,” Ian mumbled, repeating the operative word.

“So, what’s your schedule like? Wanna go before school, after school, during lunch? I have a free period. You could skip one of your classes if this means that much to you.”

“Well, I have a project for my Honors World Lit class, I can even think of what to say to Mandy if I ditch her during lunch-“

“Mandy?” Mickey interceded, his eyebrows stitched together. “Milkovich?” When Ian nodded, he grinned. “Don’t worry; I can take care of her.”

He saw it then, the same rise in the cheekbones as they smiled. “You’re her brother.”

“One of them,” Mickey corrected. “Closest to her, actually. The rest are, like, in their 20’s. So, if lunch with my sister is that important, we could do mornings.”

Ian groaned, not relishing the thought of having to get up even earlier just to make study sessions before school started. “I can’t do that. Getting up that early, no. I can’t.”

“Whadduya mean? Where you live?”

He must not have been in his grade then. He didn’t know Ian was the south side charity case. But fuck, he didn’t want this guy shooting for the high roads because he was supposed to be this piece of trash from the other side of the tracks. But Mandy would tell him, he was sure of it. “Canaryville,” Ian answered in a hush tone.

“Seriously?” And that’s when Mickey’s eyes began to wonder. And Ian could feel his skin warm under the older boy’s gaze. “You don’t look like it.”

“Same thing your sister said.”

“Yeah, you look too…I don’t know,” he paused to lick his lips; Ian prayed the shuddering breath he took was low enough for Mickey not to hear, “ _clean_.”

Ian cleared his throat, wanting to change the topic to take that look off Mickey’s face, the look that made his skin scorch and- he hoped it didn’t- turned his cheeks to a red close to the color of his hair. “Uh, you sure Mandy wouldn’t mind? The whole lunch thing?”

“I’m sure she would, but she sees you all day right? I’m sure she can manage me stealing her ginger snap for an hour.” He wrote something else in his planner before closing it and letting it fall back into his bag.

“Right. So where should I-“

“I’ll come to your locker. Mandy can tell me where it is. I don’t eat lunch at school, so it’d be counterproductive if you tried searching.”

They picked up their bags at the same time and their faces were dangerously close. Mickey gave a breathless laugh. “Maybe one of us should go first. I don’t recover as quick from getting knocked in the face as you do.”

He curtly stood up and headed for the door. He turned back to say bye or something, but when he turned back, he felt that would be the stupidest and most obvious thing ever.

“See ya tomorrow, Gallagher,” Mickey replied to Ian’s wordless goodbye.

Ian turned back and smiled wide; he’d have an hour with Mickey Milkovich every day. This had to be his lucky day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mickey Milkovich had walked the halls with fury, wanting to do nothing with this whole tutoring shit. He barely understood it when he was actually taking it last year; now he was being forced to help some sophomore who was in the same predicament as him. All he knew was he really didn’t want to do this. Or so he thought.

After Ian Gallagher had left, he let a massive breath go. He had other reasons to be upset now. He was mainly mad at himself for giving in to the younger boy’s jitters. And he was even more upset at how he would smile against his will because seriously how was he not supposed to smile at that face.

He picked up his bag, feeling a pang of humiliation; damn, he hadn’t meant to check the red head out so blatantly. But he guessed he had a good enough reason.

Worst of all, he was friends with Mandy. Mandy had mentioned him last week in passing: “the cute red head that transferred” as she’d put it. The words had resonated after he’d mentioned they were friends. He felt a bittersweet feeling cloud over at the prospect of them becoming closer. What if she ever invited him over to their house in the future? But, fuck, what if he would have to walk pass them making out. Yup, it was all bittersweet.

But now he’d have to spend an hour a day with Ian Gallagher.


	2. Lack of Subtlety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He let go of a shaky breath, berating himself for going against his plan of distancing himself because the last thing he needed was a mental image to keep him wanting more of Ian fuckin’ Gallagher."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell, I'm scared >..

Subtlety wasn’t Mickey’s strong suit; he knew that. And just a day ago, he took pride in telling things how they were because he was one of the few people he knew who did so.

And the worst part was having the urge- the urge to be straightforward. But he couldn’t be, and he strapped in the urge on a tight leash that night when he got home.

“So, remember that really cute red head I told you about last week?” Mandy had started while she leaned against the island in the kitchen while Mickey hovered over the stove.

Staying as still as he could, keeping his focus on the meat in the pan, he answered, “Faintly.”

“Well, we’re doing our Honors project together. I’m thinkin’ it’d be best to do it here since-“

“Uh, Mandy?” Mickey cut off, turning then to glance at his sister. “Do you really think our dad’s gonna be ok with you bringing home some guy from Canaryville to our house?”

Mandy’s eyes went wide. “I never told you where he’s from! Did you meet him? Why?”

His head fell back and he squeezed his eyes shut, regretting his words. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I’m, uh, tutoring, him in Geometry.”

He wanted to laugh at his sister’s new found excitement. “You didn’t even like Geometry.” She ran over to the counter as if being closer could get more information out of Mickey. “But that’s perfect! You could bring him here and tutor him! And we could work on our project. It’s perfect!”

“Mands, chill.” He turned off the stove, looking into her eyes to maybe get the message through her head. He spoke slowly and clearly. “Dad is not going to like that. Ian may be a great guy, but all dad’s gonna see is that he’s poor. You know how he feels about poor people.”

 In response she rolled her eyes and looked to her feet. “Like he would know. He’s barely home.” But she knew that Mickey was right. Their dad had a way of finding out things. If he found out Mandy was bringing in “some piss poor boy” as he’d always referred to them, he would be utterly pissed off, more so than he was when she dyed her hair and started wearing the heavy eye makeup.

But now they were on the topic of the infamous Ian Gallagher, and Mickey had questions. Questions he couldn’t ask because he couldn’t seem so interested. He was lucky he had the excuse of his judgmental father; but now that he said the words, he could feel the longing and disappointment that resonated in Mandy’s face. There was no way that either could get closer to him with the tight surveillance  they were under when it came to who they could and could not interact with.

With a sigh, Mandy asked, “Seriously, why are you tutoring him? You hated Geometry.”

“Hey, I got there,” Mickey answered sharply. He knew last year had been his worst. Their small family had gotten used to the string of A’s Mickey got with math. It was obviously his strength. But sophomore year came around and his math was on the same level as his other grades: B’s and C’s. “Besides,” he continued, “it wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter. Mr. Lennon just said I’d get Service hours for helping the kid out, and that beats going to some animal or food shelter every single week to get hours.” He had no aversion to helping people out, but when it was forced upon him, it took the fun out of it.

They had set the table up for two, and their dad’s plate was in the microwave to keep it warm. This was the routine most nights. They’d eat together and their dad would come home around the time they were getting ready for bed. They’d talk about random things that happened at school or with Mandy’s friends; she’d be the one to usually start conversations since Mickey wasn’t much for talking in general.

But tonight he had a topic in a mind. And he wanted to just out the questions without having to worry about suspicious eyes on him. He couldn’t do that, though. He even thought of ways to bring him up without being too obvious. But his sister was off, and he missed his chance.

“So Stacy asked for my eye liner today…”

\-----------

The next morning went as normally as it would for Ian. He got up before everyone else, leaving by the time they were heading downstairs for breakfast. But everything moved faster, the train arrival, arriving at his stop. All because he’d been thinking about Mickey the whole time. An hour, a whole hour with Mickey Fucking Milkovich. He knew he was being stupid. What did he think he could accomplish? But the thing was that Ian wasn’t one to go around checking out every guy he saw. Maybe it was fear that he’d actually see someone that caught his eye-

Yes. That was exactly it. The thought of Mickey was too overwhelming because he liked what he saw way too much. With the guys he’s been with before, they only did well to get him up, but beyond that, he wasn’t aching to meet them at a certain time of the day like he was with Mickey.

Holy shit, an hour trying to be calm around Mickey Milkovich. Could he even do that?

He opened the door and made his way over to his locker when he caught sight of the bulletin board. He passed by it for two weeks, only glancing, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he may be interested in something. But there weren’t that many people around, so he stopped. They had flyers for the extracurricular. He searched for the one thing he actually had interest in at his last school: ROTC. They didn’t have it.

 “Ian!” Mandy called from down the hall. He looked to where she started walking quickly- practically running- towards them. With a gnawing feeling at his chest, he watched as she slid up to him and patted his arm playfully. “Assface, you were supposed to come find me before first period started.”

Ian laughed. “Well, assuming you already knew-“

“Yeah, I heard. You’re gonna have my dumbass brother try and teach you Geometry?” She scrunched her nose up. She grabbed on to Ian’s elbow and tugged a bit. “C’mon. You should probably get to your locker before it gets too late.”

 -------------

“Hey,” Mickey greeted with a heavy breath. Putting his plan into action was going to be harder than he thought.

He didn’t even know he’d need a plan until he saw Mandy with Ian in toll, dragging him to their next class. He wore this smile that was wide and he wasn’t sure of what that burning feeling in his stomach was, but he decided then that something had to be done. Mandy was moving in quick on the red head and he wasn’t about to be a sourpuss about it. If it ever came to that point where she was sneaking off with him, he had to be ready for defense.

Ian smiled, and Mickey felt the contagious gesture moving towards him. He looked away. “Ready to go?” He could see from his peripheral vision Ian pick up his bag.

Ian followed Mickey to the DePaul center and tried to stop himself from stopping in awe. But Mickey must’ve noticed the younger boy’s wondering eyes. “This your first time being in here?”

Ian nodded with his head to the ceiling, admiring the intricate design of the pillars and the hanging lights. It was like the food court of a mall, various restaurants to choose from. He followed Mickey to the escalator as they descended to an open area that was visibly seen from the floor the main floor.

Mickey made no hesitation to lead them to a wall behind the pillar as if this was a regular thing for him. He followed as the older boy slid against the wall until he was sitting on the carpeted floor with his legs out in front of him. “You had Geometry class already, so get your homework out and hand it over when you’re stuck.” Even Mickey winced a bit at the dull, nonchalant tone of his words. But Ian complied, so he shrugged it off and took out his leftovers from last night’s dinner.

They were silent for a few minutes while Ian stared intently at the shapes on his paper. Mickey gnawed on his lip, wanting to make conversation with the boy who was seemingly as comfortable with not talking as much as Mickey usually was. “I, uh, saw you this morning- at the board.”

Ian looked up then, a grin on his lips. “Really? Thanks for not comin’ over and makin’ me feel like an idiot.”

“Huh?”

“I’m a little late to try out for anything, aren’t I?”

Mickey shrugged. “They’re shit at letting anyone know when anything happens; so if they did have try outs for anything I wouldn’t know…or care.”

Ian huffed out a short laugh, settling back against the wall. “Not much for sports then?”

“I’ll go to the games, but nah. I wasn’t really good with ‘em. And between you and me, our teams are pretty shitty, so it wouldn’t really matter. But, hey, maybe you’re exactly what one of those train wrecks needs. What’d you play?”

It was Ian’s turn to shrug. “I did baseball and football. I’m from a family of runners-oh God, no-“ he stopped himself. “I didn’t mean like, shit. I just meant that…well, my sister was a track star in high school.” He was about to mention Lip, but it hit him that Lip did most of his running to get away from people. Way to knock the stereotype.

Mickey chewed on the inside of his lip and frantically rubbed at his nose, intent on hiding the smile he felt growing from the inside out. “Well, you could try the Rugby team.”

“I wasn’t really looking for sports,” Ian admitted, looking down at his homework. “I was in the ROTC at my other school,” he explained.

The idea of Ian Gallagher being a soldier was an image that Mickey was starting to grow fond of. His eyes ran down to his body, trying to find some indication that Gallagher was hiding something under that black sweater and dark wash jeans. “Private Gallagher,” he spoke slowly, letting the words roll in his mouth and over his tongue. When his eyes went back up to his face, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry we don’t have the Army Training,” he replied, more to himself than to Ian. “But you could still do a sport to get your exercising fix in if you’re into that.”

“Exercising? Yeah I make it a regular thing; mainly because I wanna get into West Point.”

Holy shit, Mickey thought. This kid was serious about this shit. “Good luck with that,” he mumbled, not really sure how to take that.

Ian went back to attempting his homework and Mickey just kept watching him struggle, really not wanting to talk about Geometry. “You look stumped.”

Ian tapped his pencil on the sheet. “What gave it away?” he asked, his words seeping with sarcasm.

“I told you to hand it over when you were stuck, asshat.” Mickey put his bowl down and headed for the folder and paper. But Ian snatched it away at the last second. “What the fuck?”

“I didn’t even try,” Ian informed, holding it up and out of Mickey’s reach. “I have to at least fucking _try_ the problems.”

“Yeah but if you keep trying and you’re still on the first fuckin’ question then I’m not doing my job as your tutor.” He laughed out when Ian scooted away with a devious smile on his face. “I can help you.”

“After I try it, first.” Once Ian saw Mickey give up, sitting straight, he scooted back over, sitting a bit closer than he had been before. “Jesus, Mick. You’re not patient, are you?”

Suppressing the smile from hearing the way the nickname fit on his lips, he sighed. “Not really, no.”

Starting to write something on the paper, he questioned. “So, you have other brothers?”

“Yeah. They don’t live with us; out making business or whatever. What about you? You mentioned something about your sister.”

“Yeah, I’m the middle child. I have an older brother, Lip, a younger sister, Debbie, little brother, Carl, and baby, brother, Liam. And Fiona’s the oldest.”

“Holy shit,” Mickey muttered. “That must be a shit ton of noise to contend with.”

Ian shrugged, actually attentive on his work. “I work better with noise in the background.”

Mickey nodded in agreement, watching Ian’s fingers work. They were long yet strong, probably from the ROTC training. “Know how to use a gun?”

Ian turned to Mickey with his face contorted into…something. “Seriously?”

Had that come out the wrong way? “Because of the army training?” Mickey clarified.

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I do.”

Another image to add: Ian Gallagher with a tight fit shirt and camouflaged cargo pants holding a gun, ready to shoot.

He let go of a shaky breath, berating himself for going against his plan of distancing himself because the last thing he needed was a mental image to keep him wanting more of Ian fuckin’ Gallagher.

“Ok, first 3 problems done.” Ian plopped the folder on Mickey’s lap.

Mickey looked them over, chewing on the skin around his thumb. He could feel Ian’s gaze on his face and felt his skin burn under the green glare.

Ian turned away to bring a brown bag out of his book bag and opened it up. Mickey glanced over. “Brown-baggin’ it today?”

“I brown-bag it every day,” Ian answered as if that would be obvious. “So, how did I do?”

“I’m almost sure all three of these are wrong.”

Ian leaned forward with wide eyes. “Fuck off, no they’re not.”

Mickey raised his hands in defense and laughed at Ian’s disbelieved look. “Hey, I know the equations are pretty confusing but you have miscalculations on the actual math parts.”

Ian stared at him and Mickey stared back, trying to convince him that he was telling the truth. He could feel a smile tugging at his lips with every second they stared at each other. He arched his eyebrows and bit his lip as if to say, “I’m not shittin’ you, dude.”

Ian rolled his eyes in acceptance and leaned back, scooting in even closer to get a clearer view of what Mickey was talking about (or so he told himself). Taking in a deep breath, Mickey noticed a certain smell and he could feel himself trying to steady his breathing. They’d never been this close before and he really wasn’t trying to have anything pop up with the freckle face so close. “Uh, well you were trying to find this side…” he started with his explanation, watching Ian’s eyes as they stared intently on the page.

 --------------

They started walking back with only 15 minutes left, and Ian felt proud, getting through one day with Mickey. When they stood outside the door of the school, he felt Mickey grab hold of his arm. Turning back, he saw a solemn look on the older boy’s face. “What’s up?”

“How many girlfriends have you had?”

Why was this the question to catch Ian off guard? Probably because no matter way, he’d be lying, if only a little bit. “None,” he answered, hearing his voice waver.

He could see half of a smile flash on those full lips and it was gone in an instant. What the fuck did he say? Whatever it was, he wanted to say it again, just to see that smile again. “I, uh, think we both know the situation at hand,” Mickey uttered, his voice lower and huskier than before. The sound went southward and Ian froze, hoping Mickey wouldn’t notice. He was aware that Mickey’s hand still held a tight grip on his arm and he couldn’t help but feel a little trapped.

Mickey stepped closer; making his voice lower, if that was possible. “Don’t hurt my sister.”

Oh. Ian must not have been off with his speculation that Mandy liked him. He wanted to reply with how he wouldn’t have to worry about that. But the warning rang clear in Mickey’s blue eyes, and all he could do was nod.

Mickey nodded back and stepped away, leaving Ian with a desire to pull him closer and feel that heat more and more. Mickey began to back away, opening the door while keeping his eyes on Ian. With a salute, he ended, “See ya later, Firecrotch.”

Ian didn’t even try to hide the grin at his new nickname, feeling another rush of heat. If he had any hope of these tutoring sessions getting easier, his body just confirmed it wouldn’t.


	3. Lucky For Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he realized two things by the end of that camping trip as they left each other with a handshake while Mandy got a full on hug: 1.) Mickey liked boys and 2.) The Milkovich siblings shared a taste in guys, it seemed.

Yup. It was all bittersweet for Mickey. And he had fuckin’ Mandy to thank for that. He’d been in this situation before. That’s actually how he found out he was gay.

He remembered he had to go to this camp during a weekend at the beginning of freshman year. His dad wasn’t going to let him miss out on the opportunity to be “one with nature or whatever shit they say” as his dad said. It was co-ed, but girls were on one side of the reserve and boys were on the other. Mandy tagged along, claiming that she wanted to get the experience of being a leader or something along those lines to convince their dad that she could go. He remembered spotting her in another group of kids across the opening on top of the hill. He remembered her discretely pointing to some guy a lot taller than her. And he remembered seeing the same guy face to face during their lunch break. He was a cool guy- Cody! That was his name. He had dirty blond hair and a noticeable biker style. He remembered checking Cody out along side Mandy as he ran down the hill when they were in the same group for one of their activities. He felt warm and fuzzy whenever Cody smiled at him. He remembered watching Mandy flirt with him at the camp fire that night and third wheeling it grudgingly while they explored the pitch black forest. He remembered feeling a pang of jealousy when she hopped on his back and they raced away toward the other campers. He had walked back by himself, understanding his aversion to girls. Not really understanding the appeal of girls when his friends had talked about them. But Cody made it clear. No, _Mandy_ did. And he realized two things by the end of that camping trip as they left each other with a handshake while Mandy got a full on hug: 1.) Mickey liked boys and 2.) The Milkovich siblings shared a taste in guys, it seemed.

Lucky for him, Cody was just a onetime thing; she never talked to him after that. What were those called? Flings? Yeah. And lucky for him, Mandy wasn’t trying to bring every guy she thought was cute home. He figured out that with a conservative dad like his, it’d be best that whatever attractions he had for guys, it should be kept to a minimum.

He smirked at the thought as he stood outside Mr. Lennon’s seconds after the bell rang. It was Friday already, and he couldn’t help but feel a little hopeless at the fact that the week was over. He knew it was wrong for him to hope Ian hadn’t done so well on his weekly assessment, but that had to be the only way they could hang out without suspicion.

He couldn’t admit to himself that this week was a slow build up to him giving up on his distancing plan. But that’s exactly what happened. Day two, he learned more about Ian’s family, but he could feel holes, things Ian were purposefully leaving out. Day three, he learned more about Ian’s life outside of school, outside of his gigantic family. Ian was so close to being bumped up in ranks with his ROTC. He was really good in English, but Mickey could have deduced that by the fact that he was in Honors World Lit.

Mickey had gotten used to the hour they spent together. He got used to them making comebacks at each other; he’d gotten used to Ian hovering over his shoulder when he was trying to explain a problem (more or less). He’d gotten used to it, or maybe he just grew to like seeing him. A lot.

Lucky for him, his background would make him just another Cody for Mandy. She’d be force to keep him a friend amongst school grounds, and Mickey wouldn’t deny that the thought made him happy.

“Woah, hey,” Ian greeted with wide eyes, not expecting Mickey to stand where he stood, leaned against the wall with a grin on his face.

Straightening himself, he greeted back. “So, how’d you do?” He searched the younger boy’s face for any indication before he could actually answer.

Ian’s face remained the same, only a slight raise of his brows to show anything. “See for yourself.” He handed Mickey the paper with a little more force than he should have.

Taking a glance at the single sheet, he fought back a smile. “Uh, C. 72% percent’s a step up from last time.”

“Yeah,” Ian sighed, moving to the other side of Mickey so he wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. “But it’s not good enough,” he spoke with a low voice.

Mickey shrugged, biting on his bottom lip. “There’s always next week.”

Ian gave a breathless laugh, slumping against the wall. “Your optimism is incredible,” Ian complimented. “I’m running on borrowed time, Mick.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Please, you’re not _dying_. And you’ve only been here three weeks. Special cases get time to acclimate.”

Ian’s head was down, racing too fast for him to catch everything. His head snapped up when Mickey continued. “What happened to the guy yesterday tellin’ me how he believed hard work and time could get the results they wanted?” Mickey’s smile fell when Ian turned his lips into a slow smile. Was he not supposed to remember that? He’d thought it was friendly enough. Shit, was his gay showing?

“Oh, I’m gonna keep tryin’.” Ian took his paper, beginning to walk off to his locker. “I just really wish the whole time thing could hurry up a bit.”

Mickey laughed, watching Ian walk away. “Who’s the impatient one, now, Gallagher?” Mickey called out, getting a middle finger over his shoulder in response. So, they’d be at it next week, continuing with their hour together. Putting aside the fact that he still would have to actually _tutor_ Ian, Mickey smiled triumphantly.

 -----------

Ian liked hanging out with Mandy. Other than his sisters, he never felt so comfortable talking to girls. Or maybe he just didn’t want to get involved with the demented skanks at his school. Either way, he liked hanging around her. She didn’t have a hidden agenda and she didn’t judge, well, not out loud. And she had an answer for everything. He could imagine her and Lip meeting; they’d hit it off immediately.

“C’mon,” she urged, grabbing on to his wrist and tugging him along. “We can get some Subway from the place across the street behind the library.” She dragged him along, and Ian followed, completely trusting of whatever dark alley this little Milkovich was leading him to.

It wasn’t exactly an alley, but it was a bigger equivalent. The Subway sat amongst a dormant construction zone, it seemed. It was like seeing the side streets of downtown, being within the buildings rather than being on the outside where the sun shined down. The feeling was familiar and brought him an odd joy.

“Maybe you could show me some of those army skills, huh?” Mandy suggested once they crossed the street, standing beside a tarp covered railing.

Ian sized up the rusty metal. With a shrug he walked over, climbing one of the full dumpsters to reach the rail and hung for a second before getting into proper position for a pull up. “There’s extra room,” he stated when he’d done one successful pull-up without any hesitation.

Mandy snorted. “I have, like, no upper body strength; I wouldn’t be able to even hold myself up.” She watched intently, seeing a hint of abdominal muscle as his sweater tugged up a bit in the constricting position. Licking her lips, she clapped rapidly, giving him the applause that he (and his body) deserved.

And like that, any training in balance he had fleeted from him as his foot searched for the dumpster. Assuming it was inches under his feet, he let his grip loosen on the rail- only to find that his estimations were off. With only the edge of his foot finding the edge of the dumpster top, Ian went tumbling to the ground, his arm and leg landing on a broken glass and gravel covered asphalt. Good thing he had on the sweat-

Nope, the glass was in his arm, and Ian was too shocked to actually say anything or make any noise. “Shit!” he hissed, getting up as quick as he could.

“Holy shit, Ian!” Mandy exclaimed, running over to him, nearly placing her grasp on the arm covered in glass. She brushed the glass and gravel off of his leg. She turned behind her to see if any of the guards that usually walked the back of the library had seen. Two stood at the other end of the street, helping with one of the trucks backing into the garage. They couldn’t see Ian like this. They’d get into way too much trouble and the last thing she needed was her dad finding out about this.

Thinking on her feet, as she thought she had, she asked, “Do you have a bus card?”

“Yeah,” Ian growled through clenched teeth. “Why?”

“I don’t live that far away. I can take you to my house and fix you up.” She didn’t wait for Ian to respond; she grabbed his uninjured arm and started leading off across the street to the elevator that lead up to the train station.

They were lucky. Once they got up to the platform, the Pink Line was coming to a stop and they hopped on.

They remained silent as the train began forward. Ian laid his head against the glass, hoping the cold glass on his head would take away from the burn in his arm. “Do you know how to do stitching?” he asked with heavy breaths.

No, Mandy thought. But she couldn’t tell Ian that. “Yeah, sure,” she answered with a shaky breath.

He glanced to Mandy, who had to have looked more worried or in pain than he actually did. He was use to this; well, no one can ever get over the burn of fucking pain, but he knew how to contain himself. With a wavering smile, he mumbled, “That doesn’t sound promising.”

True to her word, she lived pretty close. They got off at Roosevelt 10 minutes later, walking too fast to notice the double takes they were getting. Another 5 minutes and they’d entered a gated community of sorts. They turned onto a street with rows of town houses and cars lining the curbs. Holy fuck, Ian thought. He stared Mandy down as she stopped in front of a black iron gate twice his height. After she got it open, she lead the way, and Ian followed on the cobblestone path that lead right to her door, the second one out of the row of doors.

“Uh, you have to take your shoes off,” Mandy mumbled with a hint of embarrassment in her words. But Ian obeyed and Mandy did the same. She scurried off up the stairs by the door, leaving Ian hesitating on stepping forward. But he finally did, going off in the direction she’d went, finding himself in a dining room that connected to a now well lit kitchen. “Mandy?”

“Sit on one of the stools,” he heard Mandy order from somewhere. He did so and just looked. This is where his new friend lived. This is where Mickey lived? This must’ve been how Fiona felt when she first met Steve, her rich boyfriend: small and not fitting.

Mandy popped out from a room he guessed was the bathroom. She held a standard first aid kit and peroxide. She nodded to his sweater, motioning him to take it off. He tried to with caution, but the glass still ended up scattering on the clean floor, leaving Ian to wince at the pain from its withdrawal.

They shared a sigh when they examined his arm to find they were mostly scratches. No surgical procedure had to be done. “Thank, God,” Mandy muttered, opening the box.

They stayed quiet as she cleaned up the scratches and wrapped them up. He helped her pick up the shards of glass, still having this weird feeling in his pit, like he shouldn’t be there.

“Wanna sandwich?” Mandy asked after they’d cleaned up, as if nothing had happened. When he shrugged, she went to it, taking out the necessary requirements.

“This is a, uh,” he waved his hand around to gesture at the kitchen, “nice place you guys have.”

She smiled. “Thanks. But the neighbors can be kind of annoying; they’re all so close.” She glanced up to see Ian smiling. “But lucky us, we get free wifi.”

Ian grinned with a challenge. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t get that loud; you’ve never been to my neck of the woods. Seems like a quiet place here.”

Mandy nodded in agreement. “I guess, but there are children, and I swear the walls thin out on purpose so I can hear their wailing asses at the late hours of the night.”

“Your parents must have pretty nice jobs, huh?”

“Our mom died a few years ago, actually. Just me, Mickey, and our dad.” She continued before Ian could send his condolences her way. Yeah, they missed her, but the whole “Sorry for your loss” thing got pretty old very quickly. “He runs an insurance business; life insurance, I think. Never been really sure. But I’m sure I’ll find out once I graduate from high school.”

“Family business?” Ian asked, trying to comprehend her words.

“He’s tryin’ to make it that way-“

“Mandy!” they heard someone yell from downstairs. Ian noticed a flash of fear in her eyes before they went back to normal. Realizing it was Mickey that had called out for her made her ease up. She broke off some lettuce, hearing Mickey’s feet thump on the carpeted stairs.

They both looked to Mickey when he’d gotten to the top of the stairs. Ian watched Mickey’s eyes take in his appearance, and they did that shade turn. They went from a still blue to a clouded, darker color. “What. The. Fuck.” Mickey muttered in a low voice.

 -------------

Mickey had been alarmed when the door had been unlocked. The gate had been locked, so he had been just a little bit more at ease. But seeing Ian fuckin’ Gallagher sitting in his kitchen, leaning on the counter with ease, had ripped at his insides.

Ian was supposed to be the next Cody.

Ian wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to breech this area of the Milkovichs’ lives. He was supposed to be at school only, limiting the amount of time that either of the siblings would be able to interact with him.

But fuckin’ Mandy broke that. She just let him right in, practically saying, “Come on in, take off your coat, have a seat on our couch. Wanna watch a movie, maybe make out a bit?”Nope. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Because Mickey was getting used to the red head. If Ian’d only stayed where he was supposed to, in the DePaul Center, seated next to Mickey and hovering over his shoulder and smelling of whatever the _fuck_ it was that made Mickey want to lean into him more, Mickey would be fine. But the kid was in his fucking house and-

“Nope,” he started, walking towards them in the kitchen. “Nope. No. You have to leave,” he informed, never actually meeting Ian’s eyes at that point. He heard Ian mumble “What?” in confusion, but he had to keep his attention on Mandy, who decided that any warning he’d given her wasn’t enough to keep her from letting Ian in.

“Mickey, c’mon,” Mandy started.

“I told you,” he snapped. “I told you the trouble you’d be in if-“

“He was _hurt_ , Mickey. Look!” She gestured to his arm, and Mickey followed the path, noticing then the cloth wrap on his arm. Shaking off the want to ask “what the fuck happened?” he took a deep breath and looked to Ian’s green eyes. “You’re good now, right? You need to leave.”

He could see it, and he heard it. “Mick,” Ian began, the one word holding a lot of longing or sadness or whatever it was that made Mickey look down, anywhere but in his eyes. But he changed in an instant. “Ok. Fine.” Any feeling that he’d been showing before was gone. They were two words with absolutely no depth to it, and that fucking hurt. Mickey glanced at Mandy again, seeing a conflicted look in her eyes as she watched Ian put his sweater back on. She turned to glare Mickey down as she followed Ian down the stairs. All bittersweet. He really didn’t want to be put in the situation destined to come with Ian getting so close, but he hadn’t meant to hurt Mandy. He heard them mumble their goodbyes and turned when Mandy had come back up.

She stayed silent, finishing the first sandwich she’d been making.

“Mandy,” Mickey whispered, “I told you: you can’t bring him here. What if dad-“

“Dad would never be home this early,” she intercepted, her tone as sharp as broken glass.

“But you don’t know that. You’re lucky _I_ was the one to walk up here and find him.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. “I’m _really_ lucky,” she ended with her mouth full and her tone sarcastic.

After she went up the stairs, he leaned against the counter and rubbed his face. Maybe he hadn’t handled that right; and now Ian had to get home and he was hurt. Mickey groaned. He fucked up.

The worst part was that he’d have to wait ‘til Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been thinking about this chapter all day ^_^ I'm not sure why I liked writing this so much. Still thanking people who're just like "this is cool, dude" and "promising" like, you don't understand how scary that word is.


	4. Don't Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He felt someone grab his arm to spin him around. He rolled his eyes when he saw it was Mickey. Not trying to hide how aware he was aware of Mickey’s firm grasp on his arm, he muttered, “You’re a handsy dude, you know that?”"

“Ok,” Lip sighed, patting Ian’s shoulder as they stared at the building’s glass wall. “You gonna be ok?”

Ian smirked, doubling as relief that the sting under his eye was dulled now. “I think we’re a few years passed the whole ‘Protective Big Brother’ phase, dude.”

“Not true. I’m always gonna be the protective big brother. We still have Debbie and Carl and Liam, remember?” He paused, still staring at the massive building that his brother was actually going to. “At least you got a new phone out of it,” Lip said. “Hell, I’ll take a few swings from Frank if it means free 21st Century technology from Steve.”

That was a shit weekend for Ian. First, he had to get rejected by the guy he liked in probably a more painful way than just saying, “I don’t/won’t/wouldn’t like you”. And Mickey had made it perfectly clear he couldn’t be there, in their space. He was nothing more than an aquaintence. He could be fine with that. He knew where he wasn’t accepted, and he knew how to go about things. He wasn’t one for making confrontation where it wasn’t need; they weren’t worth it.

But that didn’t change the fact that it hurt; didn’t change the fact that the ice in Mickey’s eyes had him cold to the core. It didn’t stop there. That Saturday, Frank had been home, and Ian wasn’t really in the mood. But neither was Frank. Ian asked one question, and Frank was at him. One head butt to the face and two hard swings later, Lip and Fiona’s boyfriend were on Frank, dragging him away before he could do anymore damage. Once Frank was thrown out of the house, once Ian was finally patched up thanks to Fiona’s best friend Vee, Steve had presented Ian with a gift; he’d told Ian it was for school, so he could keep track of his now busy schedule (they both knew it wouldn’t be used for such a thing). Yeah, it wasn’t a great weekend.

Lip decided to ride with Ian to school, and he’d promised he’d be there when Ian got out, so they could ride home together. Ian refuted, thinking the idea of his big brother “dropping” him off was completely absurd. But Lip was a stubborn guy; persistent, determined when he wanted to be.

“So, do you actually plan on getting back on the train and going to school?” Ian asked, walking toward the door.

“Fuck no,” Lip replied, “I’m gonna explore.” He smiled contently.

Ian laughed, opening the door. “Have fun with that.”

It hadn’t hit Ian until he walked through the doors and there were lingering eyes on the bruises on his face that this had been a mistake. The last thing he needed was more indication that he didn’t belong. He’s poor, comes from a trashy neighborhood- let’s add abusive drunk good-for-nothing piece of shit father to the mix. Ian could really hear the questions now. Some random person would come up to him, acting like they knew him for all his life, and they’d ask what happened. He’d lie, and they’d know he was lying because he was south side trash; there were only a few credible options for what could have actually happened.

He kept his head down as he walked to his locker, and made a shield of the door while he unloaded books to his locker.

“Hey.” They familiar voice came from right behind his blockade locker door.

Mandy; he really didn’t want to talk to her- not now, with his bruises. It would only confirm what her and her brother actually thought of him. Or she would pity him. He abhorred either option.

“What?” he asked in a flat tone.

“I wanted to see if you were ok, you know. Just to see if things were fine when you got home.”

Ian shrugged, keeping his head down while he closed the door. “Fine enough.”

But she was unrelenting and he almost laughed at himself for thinking Mandy Milkovich would give up so easily. “We still have a project to do together,” she reminded, her voice louder than before as she tried to keep up with Ian. “No turning back on that.” When Ian didn’t give any type of answer, she continued. “I’m sorry! My brother, my dad…” she trailed off, not sure how to explain her prick of a dad and her obedient brother without offending Ian. “It’s complicated, but it wasn’t me. I didn’t want you to leave. I didn’t care- _don’t_ \- I _don’t_ care.” He kept walking. She sighed with exasperation and reached out to grab the back of his shirt to turn him around. “Jesus Christ- _Ian!_ ” she exclaimed once she’d spun him around and discovered the fading yet noticible purple ring around his left eye and the small stitches on the bridge of his nose. “What hap- are you ok?” she clenched her eyes shut. _Obviously_ he wasn’t ok. He had fucking stitches. He’d left her house with bruises and came back to school the next week with more?

Ian avoided her eyes, looking anywhere but at the pity and worry in her face. But he was caught off guard when she pulled him in for a hug, making him drop all his books to reciprocate the PDA. “There’s nothing you could have done, Mandy,” he soothed, and felt the urge to bark out a laugh or snort or something because he was the one with the scars and she was the one that looked like she was in pain. “It happened on Saturday. Totally different day.”

“Well, what happened? Who did it? Did someone attack you?”

He stepped back out of the embrace, actually considering of telling her it was her dad. She had that look in her eyes he’s seen in Fiona’s many times before when him and Lip would get into trouble: concern-absolute and complete.

“It’s fine,” he concluded. He couldn’t take that look. He had to lighten the mood. Was it like that? Did all it take was to see actual concern in her eyes to make him forgive her? He shrugged, putting on a smile. “At least I got a new phone. Mine only.”

Mandy saw what he was doing, but she wanted to get a real answer. Then again, she didn’t really want to bring down Ian’s mood with talking about his attacker. With hesitation, she smiled back. “Really? Does that mean I can have your number now?”

“If you help me with my stuff, then yeah.”

 -----------

Mickey couldn’t shake this feeling like the young red head was avoiding him. That was a lie; Mickey _knew_ Ian was avoiding him. And why wouldn’t he? He had all the right. He’d been hurt and Mickey just kicked him out because of his own fucking personal problems and attraction towards the guy that Mandy had an pbvious infatuation on.   
He’d usually see Ian in the halls at least once before they’d meet to go to the DePaul Center, but he hadn’t even seen the back of his head.

So he stood there against the wall, waiting for Ian to exit out of Geometry. He stared at the floor, too afraid to meet the green eyes he so much tried to avoid on Friday.

His head snapped up when he could see Ian walking away quickly. “Yo, Gallagher!” Mickey called, speed walking to get next to Ian. When Ian made no point to acknowledge that Mickey called him, he grunted, finding away to put himself in front of Ian. He paused, taken aback by the scars overlaying his usuall freckly face. “We, uh, I- I’m still your tutor,” he stated, stumbling over his words.

Ian’s eyes turned to him then, and they were cold. His lips tunred into a wry smile. “I’m glad you guys have such good memories. No seriously, it’s great that you’re so excellent at remembering your civic duty to the charity case.” Ian didn’t wait for a response. He made sure he was clear of Mickey before walking away, not wanting to slip and end up touching him.

Mickey had a billion things he wanted to say at that point. He wanted to apologize; he wanted to explain to him the reasons for his behavior: both the logical and the _actual_ reasons. Mickey wanted to know what happened to his face. He wanted to know if Ian was in some sort of trouble. All these things he could have responded with, and he chose, “So, I guess we’re not gonna get our study session in, then?”

“Project,” Ian called back. “Homework. Stuff to do. People to see.”

He could feel it again. That feeling of hopelessness. Feeling that there was no way Ian would ever stop and try to listen. And he was dealing with something. But he hadn’t looked broken. Mickey noticed that much. His puppy dog eyes weren’t flitting in fear. Whatever had happened to him, he wasn’t torn up about it; and though he wanted to be upset at…who the fuck ever, all he could feel was helpless.

He didn’t like feeling helpless. It was time for Plan B.

 ------------

Ian was ready to go. He’d bolted for the double glass doors once the bell rang and he’d gotten his stuff. The rush of cool air hit his face and the sting brought him content. He met eyes with Lip, standing over by the corner by the stairs leading up to the train station.

He felt someone grab his arm to spin him around. He rolled his eyes when he saw it was Mickey. Not trying to hide how aware he was aware of Mickey’s firm grasp on his arm, he muttered, “You’re a handsy dude, you know that?”

But Mickey didn’t take his grip away, he just stepped forward. “You still need help.”

Ian winced at Mickey’s words, mainly because he couldn’t tell from Mickey’s expression if he was talking about the fucking Geometry class or with his dad. “Why’re you doin’ all this?” Ian squinted. “You made it very clear that I don’t belong here, Mickey.”

It’d been awhile since he’d heard Ian call him by his actual name. If he hadn’t felt like shit all day, that would have been his turning point. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that…my dad…”

“Yeah. I’m aware of your dad. Not wanted.”

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t come to you,” Mickey said, letting his hand fall from Ian’s arm. He tried to keep his poker face, but he really wanted to close his eyes and flinch away, like he was about to get punched in the face. He hadn’t meant for his words to come out like that. He wouldn’t have to worry about Ian being upset because he’d be creeped out.

“What?” was the only thing Ian asked, almost in awe.

Mickey shrugged. “Just because my dad won’t let you in my house doesn’t mean I can’t go to yours.” Actually, it did mean that. Because the whole point was putting a divide between him and the poor. But his dad didn’t have to know about it. He’d make sure he wanted.

Ian stepped back a bit, completely astounded. “You wanna come to _my_ house,” Ian repeated. “Why the fuck would you wanna do that?”

“You’re not a fuckin’ charity case. And yeah, maybe I started tutoring you because I was-“ he stopped himself, knowing there was no way the next words would come out correct. “But you’re a cool guy and, you know, Mandy…” Mickey was getting good at coming up with excuses. It was kind of scary.

“Hey!” a guy called out. Shit, had they really caused a scene? Mickey froze as the guy walked forward. He draped an arm around Ian’s shoulder once he came up. “Is everything ok over here?” the guy asked, glancing from Ian to Mickey.

Noticing the confusion on Mickey’s face, Ian introduced, “This is Lip, the older brother I told you about.”

Lip stuck his hand out for Mickey to shake, and he did so firmly. Then Lip stepped away, pointing towards to station, “You ready?”

Ian nodded and turned back to Mickey with contemplative eyes. After a second, he affirmed, “Mickey’s coming with us.”

It was Lip’s turn to look confused. “You know where we’re going, right?”

“The Gallagher house,” Mickey confirmed.

“Shit, Ian. I think Mickey, here, is messed up in the head.” He shrugged then and started walking. Ian rolled his eyes and started walking, leaving Mickey to tag behind. He was still upset, obviously.

Once they were on the train, Lip let them sit together, standing against the door. “How come you didn’t invite Mandy?” Ian asked in a loow voice, leaning in so Mickey could hear him. “Afraid somethin’ might happen to her there?”

“Why the fuck do we always have to talk about my sister?” Mickey sighed, not really thinking about what he said until he’d already said it.

Ian smirked, looking down, and Mickey inched, wondering if he was finally forgiven. As if he read the blond’s mind, Ian picked his eyes up. “We can’t control our parents.” He gave a genuine smile and Mickey knew he’d been forgiven. “And thanks for not asking about this.” He motioned to his face.

“There’s something different? Thought you were that ugly all the time,” Mickey snapped with a smile bitten between his teeth. With more solemn, Mickey questioned, “You ever gonna tell me what happened?”

Ian shrugged, leaning back against his seat. They stayed quiet, and the whole time Mickey fought against his fast beating heart and a smile that tugged on his lips as their legs inevitably touched in the small distance. And he couldn’t fucking catch a break.

The stop for Kedzi came, and Mickey’s heart still fluttered, but one question raced through his mind the whole time:

Wat the fuck was he doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this part is bad >.


	5. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“You don’t mind, do you?” Ian asked, standing up to open up the window. The cool air whipped through and Mickey didn’t understand the acrobatics going on in his stomach."

Mickey could feel his tense muscles as they walked the surprisingly short distance to Ian’s house. He noticed whenever Lip would glance over at him with a smirk on his face. Because leave it to Mickey to show how uncomfortable he was being here. There wasn’t a speck on him and he was walking down a dirt infested street. But who wouldn’t be nervous?

He was in a new environment, and being on the defensive was something most people did once they entered a new place. So fuck yeah he was nervous. It was normal.

The Gallagher house stood near the end of the dead end street, gray and almost a carbon copy. There wasn’t much to distinguish the house from the rest except the fact that this is where Ian had grown up, uplifted into the guy he was crushing over today.  

Mickey ascended the wooden stairs with a sense of hesitance, afraid they would give way under his weight. As he stood on the slight unevenness of the porch, he checked his surroundings for maybe the 6th time since getting off the train. It was all so quiet. Nothing like he expected.

Ian held the door open, allowing Mickey to follow Lip in. And that’s where all the noise was.

“FUCKING DIE ALREADY SCUMBAGS!” someone yelled from inside the house, ringing clear over the corroded noises that could only be a television’s audio of gun shots and battle sounds. Mickey noticed the youth in the voice, of someone who hadn’t reached puberty yet, it seemed.

“What the _fuck_ did I tell you about cursing, Carl?!?” he heard a woman’s booming voice yell back.

He took in the room front room, the sight of a young boy sitting on the edge of a coffee table, leaning from left to right erratically as if he was there in whatever video game he was playing. And there was a girl beside him, a long red braid hanging down her back. He took in the staircase to his right, the few discarded clothes near the bottom; the tacky old fabric that hung over the underside of the staircase. He took in the carpet that complemented the sofa and the other furniture pieces. It was a very plain, ordinary living room. It was a good start.

As Mickey inched farther into the room, he smelled the works of someone preparing dinner in the kitchen that was connected to the living room.

“Hey guys,” he heard the woman’s voice again, and found the source of said voice. A girl, maybe a few years older than Ian- Fiona, that had to be her- with wavy brunet hair and the borderline doe eyes that had been, so far as Mickey noticed, had been passed down to the three older siblings. She had full lips that were set into a judgmental pierce naturally. She’d initially greeted her brothers with a glance, but something was out of place- _someone_. “Hi!” she exclaimed with wide questioning eyes. “Who’s this?”

“Mickey, my tutor,” Ian answered, shrugging off his jacket and sweater and threw it over the sofa. Mickey gave her a single wave and slapped his arm back down. Turning back to Mickey, he asked, “Did you want a grandmaster tour or should we just get on with it?”

Mickey wasn’t gonna lie- he kind of wanted a tour, but he got the feeling like there wouldn’t be much to it, seeing the size of the house.

The little girl with the Ian’s color hair turned around; Mickey wasn’t sure why he was so shocked to see what seemed to be the younger, girl version of Ian with her emerald eyes that had the same pout to them that the rest of them had. “Ian, can you help me with my project?”

Looking to Ian for his response in the same fashion the little girl had, Mickey could see Ian war with something as he stuttered with his mouth open. “Uh, sure, I can, but…you think you could maybe get Lip to start with you? I kinda need to get some work done.” The apology was written all over his face.

“It involves a lot of eating.”

“Oh, well then, I’ll get done as soon as I can.” Ian smiled before looking at Mickey. Without a word, he started up the stairs and Mickey followed.

Mickey examined as much as he could while they walked down the long hallway. There were things discarded everywhere, and there was evidence of a toddler- Liam- living there with the random toy truck and colorful rings.

They finally made it to the end of the hall and Mickey could sense some type of excitement within himself.

It was a cramped space, almost every single square inch covered by a bed or a desk over by the window or a dresser crowded with discarded papers and cans and trays.

“Did I just go back in time?” Mickey mumbled, watching as Ian threw his bag on the twin-sized bed lying right by the window. That had to be his bed. “Who’s in office right now? Fuckin’ Teddy Roosevelt?”

Ian rolled his eyes and sat in the chair at the desk, scooting it closer to the edge of his bed as Mickey sat on the tidy bed, the only well made bed in the room. “Well, me, Lip, and Carl share a room and Debbie shares a room with Liam.”

Mickey squinted, finally taking off his coat as he went over the mental image of the hallway in his head. He got it. “You parents, right” he thought out loud. That made every room full.

“Hey,” Lip charged in a bit breathless, peeling off his shirt without a thought. “I’m gonna meet up with Karen for a couple of hours,” he climbed the bunk bed next to the door. After finding another shirt and smoothing it out once he got it in, he looked up to them. “You want anything?”

“What could Karen Jackson have that I would _ever_ want?” Ian asked, getting his folder out before turning to his brother with a knowing smile.

Lip reciprocated the smile before nodding and leaving the room and bounding down the stairs.

“What did that mean?” Mickey asked, mirroring Ian’s actions with taking out his homework. He scooted on the bed to lean against the wall. The action felt…comforting? All he knew was that settling in like that made some type of weight lift off his shoulders, but he wasn’t sure why.

Ian shrugged. “It’s a little insider,” Ian explained, sneaking a glance at Mickey, hoping he’d been attentive to his own homework; but he’d been caught, blue eyes boring into his skin once he turned away.

There was a loud shout followed by laughter downstairs. Mickey quirked a smile. “Is it usually like this?”

“Not until recently. I used to be down there with them or hanging with Lip and his parasite, Karen.” Ian sighed, leaning far away to reach for something in a drawer on the other side of the desk. His hand came back up and he held a cigarette and lighter. “You don’t mind, do you?” Ian asked, standing up to open up the window. The cool air whipped through and Mickey didn’t understand the acrobatics going on in his stomach.

“I won’t mind if you hand one over,” Mickey replied. A flash of disbelief that lingered long enough for Mickey to notice, he shrugged, “Yeah, I smoke.” Ian handed one over and Mickey leaned in so Ian could light it for him. Mickey stole a glance, almost mesmerized by the way Ian’s eyes focused in on the lighter, making sure to get a light the first time around. The red head succeeded. He inhaled his first breath and held it there for a while, enjoying the burn it caused. Once he exhaled, watching the smoke swirl and disappear out the window, he clarified, “You find your own ways to defy your parents, you know?”

“Smoking in secret is defying your dad? Wow, never took you for a badass, Mick.”

“What, you don’t do things to challenge them? And isn’t this bad for your whole exercise thing you do? What’s good for tryin’ to maintain proper health when your lungs don’t work right?”

“Many people in the army smoke,” Ian defended, taking another deep inhale. “And the whole defying my parents thing? I don’t think I do that.”

“You do everything your parents tell you to do?” Mickey held his half smoked cigarette up. “ _Everything_?”

“Pfft. Look who’s talkin’.” Ian shot back and leaned forward again, locking eyes with Mickey until the blond got it, under that green gaze, what Ian was alluding to.

Mickey snatched his eyes away, staring at his hands. “Low blow, Gallagher,” he whispered. They remained silent for a few minutes, finishing off their cigarettes and tossing the butts out the window. “So, what do your parents do anyway?” Mickey asked, picking up his homework.

“Many things,” Ian responded. “Hey, I don’t get this question,” he informed, changing the subject.

Mickey leaned in, liking the close proximity of their faces as if he hadn’t spent a whole week with the guy attached to his side. Mickey still couldn’t explain what was happening.

 -----------------

Mickey wanted to say this was a mistake, coming here, seeing how the mysterious Ian Gallagher lived. He wanted to loathe himself for staring too long while he watched Ian sucked on popsicle after popsicle for Debbie; he wanted to hate himself more for where the feeling went, mentally substituting the popsicle for his-

Mickey wanted to feel like he made a big mistake, because he did in a way. But he couldn’t bring himself to care that Mandy’s crush was lying there on Debbie’s floor after eating- holy shit- 10 popsicles, looking completely drained. And he couldn’t bring himself to care that he was impressed by Ian’s stamina for sucking down all ten; it was a promising image.

It was about 7pm once they made their way downstairs and into the kitchen. Mickey had his coat in hand, ready to say his goodbyes to the rest of Ian’s family when Fiona stepped in front of him, her arms folded over her chest. “Are you staying for dinner?” she asked, her eyes cutting deep, intimidating.

“Uh, I should probably get home. It’s dark and my sister-“

“I know,” Fiona started, something creeping into her smile, “I phrased it as a question, but it wasn’t. You’re staying.” And that was final. He knew there wouldn’t be anything to say to change that, and Fiona grabbed his coat and hung it up on the coat hanger by the door in the kitchen.

Mickey turned to Ian, who was starting to bring all the food to the table. He shrugged, mentally telling Mickey there was nothing he could do about it.

“Take a seat, Mickey,” Fiona said with a pat to his back. She walked over to the foot of the steps. “Carl! Debs! Dinner!” she yelled up the stairs. Not seconds later, the thumping of feet bounding down the stairs.

Mickey swung his legs around to sit on the bench when Carl scooted in next to him, sitting something down on the table. Mickey stared, trying to figure out what the two pieced of melted metal were supposed to be.

“I made it,” Carl said proudly. “I found this torch in our garage. It works pretty well on skin, too.”

“Yeah,” Mickey agreed. “Fire does work pretty well on flesh.”

“Are you rich?” Carl asked, real curiosity in his eyes. Mickey smiled and shrugged. “I mean, I don’t really-“

“Steve’s rich. He buys us stuff. How do you know Ian? From ROTC? Can you buy me a butterfly switchblade? A gun? I don’t really care which kind. Ian won’t let me use his stuff. He says I might hurt someone. He’s kinda stupid ‘cause that’s the point!”

Ian groaned, taking a seat on the other side of Mickey. “I said you could use it when I taught you how to use it properly. You could hurt yourself.”

“See?” Carl looked to Mickey. “Total buzz-kill.”

Mickey laughed, taking in the sight of the family together. A couple walked in, a black lady and white guy- Kev and Vee, according to Ian. There wasn’t one seat left unoccupied. And there was a high top chair, being occupied by Liam (“He’s black,” Mickey stated and Ian smiled. “Congratulations on your 20/20 vision, man,” Ian had replied) who was laughing out loud, having a good time. And everyone was conversing, laughing, and it was all so contagious and freeing, being able to laugh and talk and being in a warm space full energy. Mickey hadn’t felt anything like it.

 -----------

Ian decided to walk Mickey back to the train station, after Carl had targeted Mickey, insisting the guy couldn’t leave until he promised that he would get him a blade. Mickey promised, and the strange part was that he planned on keeping.

“That was great,” Mickey complimented, sighing against the dropping temperature. But he couldn’t shake something, and he hadn’t noticed with everyone being so into their time there. “Where were your parents?”

“Really, Mick?” Ian asked with a breathless laugh. “Still haven’t figured it out yet?”

The first thought that came to Mickey was that they were dead, which would suck massively, having to lose both parents like that.

“Frank’s a raging alcoholic. He sleeps there some nights, but most night he’s passed out somewhere. He’s kinda shitty in that way.”

A dad that wasn’t around; Mickey could understand that a lot more than Ian might have known. “What about your mom?”

“A bit messed up, but she’s even worse than Frank. At least we actually see Frank sometimes even if he is the lowest of lives.” Mickey had been staring at Ian as he talked, trying to get some clear indication o what this did to him. Ian clenched his eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“C’mon, Mickey. You’re not gonna go around telling random people how fucked your parents are. Because telling anyone how fucked up they are makes people think you’re just as fucked up, or you’re on your way to being so.”

Mickey agreed in silence. He never actually told Ian that his dad didn’t want him in their house. But there was no getting past the implied statement. “We can’t control our parents, right?” Mickey reassured. Shit, he did it again. But this time he hadn’t cared that he remembered. It was true.

Ian smiled when they got to the station. “Tomorrow, then,” Ian stated.

“Tomorrow,” Mickey settled.

They both felt it, but they were both unaware as the tension built. They both wanted to lean in for something, whether it be a hug or- it could have only been a hug. But they couldn’t do that either. Mickey headed up the stairs with a stupid grin on his face.

Ian watched him walk up the steps, laughing at himself as he watched intently. Shaking his head, he began his journey back with the biggest grin on his lips.

 ---------------

Mickey had gotten home around 10pm, most of the lights off. But once he got to the dining room, he noticed his father sitting at the table, reading a book of sorts. Mickey wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with money or finances.

“Where the fuck have you been?” His voice was low and strangled, tired from a long day of listening to his own voice. They all knew he loved the sound of it.  

Maybe Mickey was still high off the liberation of being able to feel the warmth that radiated from the Gallagher clan, or maybe he was just tired, but at that point, he seriously couldn’t give one fuck about his dad being mad at him. So he shrugged, taking off his jacket. “Friend’s house.”

“Mandy texted you twice.”

“And I texted her back. Maybe she forgot to tell you that.”

He turned to Mickey then, an evil glare Mickey had gotten so used to, and the mere thought of that look had him annoyed off his ass, on his last nerve, restraining the urge to beat that stupid look off his dad’s face. He hoped his feelings were shown through his face at that moment. “This isn’t the year to start fucking up,” he growled.

Mickey fought an eye roll. “Got it. I’m goin’ to bed.”

“But do you get it? Because you can act all reserved, but you know what happens then, right?” He made the gesture of slicing off his neck. Cut off.

Again, Mickey had a thousand things to say. _How would you know? How the fuck would you know how either of us felt or acted? You don’t even know what my grades look like. Get your fat head out of your bigoted ass and fuck off._

“Right,” Mickey said with a nod, turning and leaving his father where he stood. It was incredible how one fucking person could almost make you forget about one of the awesomest nights ever.


	6. Top Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But after a while, imagining himself pounding down on Ian, bringing back the bruises that were fading quickly. He wanted to touch Ian’s lips. But not like this; he wanted to feel Ian’s jaw, but-fuck- not like this."

It was pretty much safe to say that Mickey woke up over the clouds. Opening his eyes, all he could think about was Ian at his side, yelling one minute at Lip across the table then leaning to whisper an apology in his ear when Kev and Vee made some crude remark that only the older members would understand. He couldn’t recognize his own smile, thinking about Ian’s hot breath against his ear and how intimate the second had felt. Mickey woke up over the falling moon.

He slid out of his bed with all this unknown energy, when he opened his door, he caught Mandy coming out of the bathroom next to his room. She had a serious case of morning drowsiness, her bed hair matted in odd places and scrunched up in others, and there were the faint dark circles that would be gone once she fully woke up. “Where the hell were you last night?” she croaked as he passed her, on his way to the bathroom.

Mickey paused, contemplating on how she’d react to knowing he’d gotten farther with the guy she liked than she had. “Out,” he decided, was the best answer.

“Whatever, douchebag; don’t tell me anything.” Mandy ended with a slam of her door.

 -----------

Ian rolled his eye but didn’t do much to stop the smile creeping on his lips. “Are we makin’ this a regular thing now?” he asked as he leaned on the wall by Mickey. “What? Are you like my body guard or something now?”

“You mean more volunteer work?” He laughed then added, “You know my free period is second. That’s when you have Honors, right?”

Ian nodded, completely ok with the idea of seeing more of the blond Milkovich. He started walking, knowing Mandy would be waiting for him at her locker. “So, I kinda promised your sister that I would hang out with her during lunch-“

“Doing that same fuckin’ project,” Mickey interjected with a groan. He couldn’t believe his sister was still using that as an excuse to spend time with Gallagher. But then again, he was using the tutoring…

Whatever. It was different. She didn’t have to hide like he had to.

Ian smirked. “No, actually. She said she wanted to have lunch with me properly. Just me and her. I think she’s trying to get some info out of me.”

Mickey tried to roll his eyes, but they got stuck and he clenched them close. “I thought I said we shouldn’t bring her up.” A frightening image flashed in his mind, but it was one he longed for. Because some part of him just really wanted them to start dating already. Mandy had had boyfriends before, and he knew how she was around them. They’d spend a lot of time together, and she’d always be borderline _clingy_ and then she’d back off, as if she was a rubber band nearly stretching to the breaking point before deciding to slowly take off resistance. It was something close to erratic, and some guys could handle that; some guys couldn’t. He wasn’t sure yet if Ian was one of those kinda of guys.

\------------ 

Once they parted ways, Ian was on his way to Mandy’s locker. She grabbed his books and tossed them in her locker and linked their arms together.

They walked in the opposite direction, further towards Roosevelt, and Ian asked where she was taking him. It turned out there were a string of different restaurants that he vaguely knew about. They both decided on Panda, knowing how reliable they were at providing fast food. Once they got their trays and paid for them, they sat in a booth. Ian wasn’t sure what he expected, but it made him nervous as Mandy slid in next to him rather than across from him.

“So, how are you and Mickey?” Ian asked, remembering Mickey’s strange reaction whenever he’d mention Mandy.

Mandy shrugged, looking up to him with a smile. “We’re fine. Why?”

“Well,” he started picking at his orange chicken. “It’s just that…you know, since last Friday…”

Mandy groaned at the memory. “He’s such a goody-two- shoes. He does everything dad tells him to. The old man’s barely around to know how we do at school.”

“Goody-two-shoes, huh?” Ian repeated, only picturing Mickey licking his lips as the cigarette smoke fumed from his nose like he was a bull. After watching Mickey do that several more times, he’d decided that’s probably the hottest way to make something as unhealthy as smoking seem good. “Does Mickey tell you about everything he does?”

Mandy sighed heavily, turning her body fully towards Ian. “Can we not talk about my brother?” she leaned in a bit, staring at his lips in anticipation.

And Ian got this weird sense of déjà vu when he heard those words. Yesterday, Mickey had said the almost the exact same thing, in almost the exact same way. His mind was working before the rest of him could, because he felt like he was on to something but nothing made sense and he was left confused.

But he was brought back quickly as Mandy shifted closer. She bit her lower lip slowly, and his heart rate picked up. “Mandy,” he whispered, more as a warning. When he could tell she didn’t get it, he put his hands firmly on her shoulders to stop her. “Mandy.” He could see the daze leave her eyes and they filled with understanding, a crushing one at that. He was telling her stop, because he didn’t like her. And he was tempted to say what he actually felt. He was about to _friendzone_ her. He should have done it a week, two weeks ago. But he didn’t want her to stop talking to him. “Mands…I’m sorry,” he apologized.

She sat back straight, looking down at herself, like she was noticing herself and what she was about to do. “Oh,” she mumbled. “Right…” she smacked her head as if it’d been there along and she was just now realizing it. “Of course. How could I have thought-“

“Mandy, don’t-“

“No,” she said, scooting away until she was out of the booth. “No, I’m sorry,” she assured with a shaky breath. She headed for the door before he could say anything else.

She just thought he was shy. She shook her head, the humiliation washing over her more than anything else. She kept walking, past her school. She didn’t know why she was going here, but she ended up there, and standing right over Mickey at a table in sight from the door at the end of the hall.

Mickey looked up when he felt someone’s presence. In confusion, he asked, “What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Ian?”

Mandy didn’t answer, she couldn’t. What was she supposed to say? Instead, she took a seat across from him, picking up his half eaten pizza and taking a bite out of.

Mickey watched the water fill in his sister’s eyes. He could like the guy all he wanted, but he hurt his little- his only- sister.

Ian Gallagher would be a dead man for that.

 -------------

Ian wasn’t avoiding anyone. Yes, he saw Mickey give him the death stare in the hallway to his 4th period class. And yes, it may have sent shivers down his spine, but he wasn’t hiding.

After his last class, he rushed to Mandy’s locker and found her closing up and leaving. “Mandy, wait,” he called out, catching up to her in a few long movements.

She turned to meet his eyes and felt like he got punched by his dad all over again. Hell, _that_ would have hurt less than the pain in Mandy’s eyes, the fear coating over and the red puffiness under her eyes. It’d been recent since she last cried. “I can explain,” he decided, crumpling under her gaze.

“I doubt it,” she muttered, but she made no point to move away. She just stared and waited.

But Ian couldn’t explain here. He dragged her outside to the corner, hoping maybe the sharp turn would help them in some way. He seriously couldn’t believe he was about to do this. But looking back at her desperate expression, the curiosity burning within her, he had to tell her. He couldn’t lose her. She was his best friend. “I’m gay.” His breath hitched up a bit at the end of his sentence.

He could tell she didn’t believe him at first. The tears were welling up again and his expression begged and pleaded for her to believe him. “Are you serious?” she asked through thick words. “You’re not just saying that, right?”

“Trust me, Mands. I wouldn’t lie about that. I’m…” he trailed off, wanting to apologize, but he wasn’t about to say sorry for being gay. If anything, he was sorry he hadn’t given her some indication sooner. Because saying the words and just acting on them are two different things.

Mandy slapped his arm. “Well why the fuck didn’t you say anything before?” he could tell she believed him, and there wasn’t much venom in her question.

“What was I supposed to say? Hi, I’m Ian. I’m from the south side and I like guys. Would you honestly have talked to me with that combination of words?” She looked down, a small smile forming. “Congratulations. You’re now the second second person to know.”

“No one knows? Who’s the first?”

“My brother, Lip. And he found out by finding my porn.” Ian gave a breathy laugh at the memory. “I’m really sorry, though. I should have said something.”

Mandy shook her head. “No, dude, you’re right. What could you have possibly said?” She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him in for a hug, her cheek lying against his chest. His arms wrapped around her and squeezed tightly. She could hear his heartbeat racing from this position. “So, I’m guessing this is top secret info, then?” She could feel his chin rub against the top of her head as he nodded. “You might wanna, uh,” she pulled away, feeling kind of guilty, “avoid Mickey for a while. A day, at least. I’ll explain things to him when I get home.”

Ian sighed in relief. “Thank you, Mands. Really, thank you for being one of the few people I can count on with these types of things.”

Mandy shrugged, feeling her smile and a weight lift off her heart. It still hurt, but it was more bearable. “What are friends for?”

Ian nodded. He gave her a peck on her forehead and waved goodbye, heading towards the train station. She groaned inwardly as she watched him walk away. It was an utter shame he was gay. Almost heart breaking.

 --------------

Ian was avoiding him again. Second day in a row for a completely different reason. But it was his turn to be upset. He stayed outside the school for a good 20 minutes before deciding he’d snuck away to get home. Mickey walked away grumpily. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining what Ian possibly said to make Mandy upset. The only one he could think of was that he didn’t like her. Mandy was pretty good with rejection. But she’d really liked him, so this was different. And she’d been working hard because she thought Ian was worth it. Mickey knew he’d be worth it. He’d be worth the beating too.

But after a while, imagining himself pounding down on Ian, bringing back the bruises that were fading quickly. He wanted to touch Ian’s lips. But not like this; he wanted to feel Ian’s jaw, but-fuck- not like this.

Mickey found Mandy at home in her room, lying on her bed with her books out. He discarded his bag and walked in. “Hey, how you feelin’?”

“Fine.”

“Fine? Don’t give me fine. Just a few hours ago you were fighting tears. Now, all of a sudden, you’re fine?”

Mandy shrugged, never looking up from her homework. “He explained things to me.”

“What things?” Mickey tried to conceal his actual want to know. Ian had opened up to him majorly less than 24 hours ago. If there was something else, he couldn’t help but feel kind of hurt that Ian didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him. Mickey shook it off, waiting for Mandy to answer.

“I can’t tell you.” She looked up with an heir of pride in her words. It was like she knew she had something big. Like she felt special that he’d confided in her rather than her brother. But she wouldn’t know anything about that, right? “I promised I’d keep it a secret.”

“How important is it?” he asked with a threatening tone to his voice. “Like, on a scale of one to dying, how important is it?”

She shook her head. “Nope,” she giggled. “Can’t tell you.”

“Nothing’s gonna bring it out of you?” he lunged, grabbing hold to her sides before she could block him from her most tickle- sensitive area. “Not even a tickle fest can get it out?” he asked over her screaming and laughing. He loved to hear that laugh. It was his own little warmth amongst the emptiness of that house, a miniature version of the Gallagher’s dinner in the kitchen.

Once he let up, she shook her head while heaving. “Nope, still can’t tell.”

It must’ve been really important. “Ok,” he said, getting up from her bed. He knew how to find things out. It was probably one of the very few things that their prick of a dad taught him. And he knew a way to get the information.

If he couldn’t get it from his sister, he’d get it from Ian himself.

 -----------

“Thanks for not busting my nose open again,” Ian said, looking down. Mickey had already said sorry for yesterday, for mentally beating him to a pulp in the halls.

They sat in their usual spot, and it seemed like such a long time that they actually sat in that spot like everything was normal. It’d been two days plus a weekend, but neither cared. Ian pulled out his homework as usual, and Mickey watched intently, readying himself. He hadn’t done this in a while- he hadn’t need a reason. And things like these needed preparation; you had to be on your feet and ready to react to anything and everything.

Ian turned to look at him. “What?”

Mickey spoke slowly in a low voice. “Mandy…told me,” Mickey lied, keeping his eyes steady on Ian’s waiting for the reaction to slowly build.

“Told you what?”

“I came home and she’d told me everything was fine between you and her. And she told me why.” He knew this was the hardest part: holding an expression with enough conviction do they wouldn’t ask further on the topic. Ian would have to believe by his expression alone.

And it was working. He watched Ian’s eyes widened. “She…no she didn’t.” He looked away, eyes flickering back and forth. Once he looked back to Mickey, he saw his thoughts clearly in his eyes: first rage, then acceptance, then fear. And the last was hopelessness. Like he was about to lose something and he’d been put in a situation where he just couldn’t have either thing he desired.

“Don’t be upset with her. She said she couldn’t tell me. But I forced it out of her. Our dad’s a scary du-“

“You don’t care?” Ian asked hastily. And Mickey could see that Ian _needed_ this answer, but he wasn’t sure why.

“Of course, I don’t dude.  Why would I?” Mickey looked away again, waiting for Ian to catch the bait. He’d been following the line for a while; it was time for him to lunge forward and grab on.

He waited patiently still as Ian rose to stand and pace in front of him for a minute. Mickey watched Ian run his fingers through his hair, and he laughed with a massive sigh. Ian stopped abruptly and sat back down. He let out another deep breath before turning to Mickey. His voice was low yet clear. “You seriously don’t care that I’m gay?”

 _Holy shit_.


	7. Ready To Explode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Was it possible that he saw Ian Gallagher in a new light? He definitely had a certain glow about him now. Maybe it was the neon light that was glowing above his head now, congratulating Mickey on hitting the jackpot because Ian Gallagher was fucking gay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have mentioned this before the last time I wrote in the setting of a Friday afternoon- and I'm not really sure if their school actually does this though I'm sure they do- school on Friday is a half day, so they just go through all 8 classes- skipping lunch- and dismiss everyone for the day. I forgot to mention that before.  
> On that note: I hope this is good enough because I seriously kept backspacing >.

Mickey, with just a millisecond, had almost messed up. Almost.

“What?” Mickey slipped. Hearing two words so genuinely stated, he thought he misheard. No. Gallagher couldn’t be gay. It’d be too good to be true. But that’s what it sounded like he said. And his brain was eager to check before he could stop himself. It all happened so fast and he had to do damage control before actual damage was done.

Mickey had two options: he could be genuine or he could play it off; genuine would be him telling the truth, how he just tricked Ian into get the information out; or he could act confused, like what Ian was talking about had not been what Mickey was talking about. The plus side- both were true to some extent. The down side- he really had no choice in which option he could come up with. He may have been sneaky enough to come up with way to get the secret out of Ian, but that’s as far as he could go, that’s where he got off the Lie Locomotive.  But, fuck, how hurt would Firecrotch be if he’d just outted himself when he didn’t want to?

“What?” Ian’s eyes went wide, and the terror rang true in that one instant. Mickey really had no choice.

He looked away with surprise. “Uh, she told me you had just …had a bad experience with-“

“Oh, shut up,” Ian interrupted, slamming his stuff down and drawing within himself, bringing his knees to his chest and covering his head. “Mandy never said shit to you.”

Was it ok to be annoyed? He just found out that the guy he liked could possibly- by some struck of luck- like him back, and Gallagher was there sitting in the fetal position, scared for some reason, Mickey wasn’t really sure what.

Mickey shrugged, leaning in a bit. “I still don’t care,” he whispered.

Ian dared to look up, to meet Mickey’s face. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Mickey snorted. “Believe me, I wouldn’t plan on it.” Oh, that was his own insider. “I mean, I get it. People talk. Don’t want the wrong person finding out.” He snapped his mouth close. He seriously wasn’t saying anything right. He couldn’t lie; he couldn’t get a coherent thought across without either hurting the poor kid or nearly outing himself. “I promise I won’t tell,” he ended with reassurance. And he just stared, watching Ian move.

Was it possible that he saw Ian Gallagher in a new light? He definitely had a certain glow about him now. Maybe it was the neon light that was glowing above his head now, congratulating Mickey on hitting the jackpot because _Ian Gallagher was fucking gay_. But Mickey wasn’t really sure what was so great. There were a shit load of gay guys- there was a whole community of them north of where they were. But none of those guys were Ian.

“Can I ask you a question or five?”

“On me being gay?” Ian gave a dry laugh. “No.”

“Why not? I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Mickey, you plaid me like a fucking _harp_ and you plucked every right string to make me just come out like that.” Mickey bit his bottom lip at the description; how was he _not_ supposed to imagine exactly that- pushing all of the right buttons to make Ian give in to…something, anything. “Only Lip and Mandy knew,” Ian explained. “Excuse me for not wanting to make the situation worse.”

Fuck Gallagher for making him feel guilty. Honestly. No, fuck Gallagher for actually coming out to someone. Fuck him for being right in front of him and not being able to see Mickey for what he truly was. And most of all, fuck Gallagher for having just as shitty gaydar as Mickey did.

Mickey chewed on the inside of his lip. “But they aren’t-“

“Mick,” Ian warned with solemn. “I don’t need another Lip on my hands. Just…not now…maybe later.” And he was back to his work, focused all on his work.

“Later,” Mickey whispered, making a mental note.

 --------------------

The million dollar question, and he knew the answer; the couple on that one show that fit so well together- they finally kissed; being told the spoiler of the most suspenseful thriller ever and not being able to tell anyone about it. Mickey was all of these things, and all he found out was that Ian liked dicks as much as he did. And he sat on that information; the question would swim around in his head at the oddest times- when he was taking a test, when he was jerking off, when he was listening to his dad talk because the old fuck _loved_ the sound of his dumbass thoughts being spoken aloud:

_You seriously don’t care that I’m gay?_

Three days ago, he’d heard that question, and he still couldn’t believe it. And every time he saw Gallagher, he’d hear the question all over again. Three days, and he was still replying to that question with “what?” because how the fuck could Ian, of all people, be gay? How the hell could the red head have grown in front of his eyes? Seriously, a week and something was different about Ian, but Mickey couldn’t pinpoint it.

It was just another massive thing for him to keep pinned up inside him. Mickey was attracted to a guy who was also attracted to guys- and Mickey was ready to explode.

Much was evident Friday morning; he had the “pleasure” of seeing his dad right before he was off to work.

“Busy tomorrow?” His dad asked with no real tone in his voice.

Mickey sighed; it was too early for that word. “Not that I know of.”

“There’s a seminar tomorrow out in Oak Brook at about 11 in the morning. I wanna take you out there with me.”

“Wow,” exclaimed sarcastically. “Sounds really fun and all, that whole Father and Son bonding time over investment dealing or whatever it’s called, but I’m gonna pass on that.”

Terry laughed. “You’re not gonna get anywhere if you don’t try and improve yourself.”

“Actually!” Mickey snapped quickly, “I _do_ have something to do tomorrow. Service Learning trip with my AP Calc class.” He put on a fake smile, the kind of fake smile that didn’t even try to hide.

Terry shrugged, already done with anything Mickey was involved in. “If you wanna waste your time with that shit rather than bettering your future-“

“Yep,” Mickey interrupted with plain mockery. “That’s exactly it, dad. You have to get to work, right?”

Mickey’s glare burned in the back of his head as he walked off. It was too early in the morning to hear that kind of crap. Well, there really was no right time to hear your dad berate you with a nonchalant tone.

“Ready?” Mandy asked, bounding down the stairs.

He nodded, not wanting to snap at his sister.

 -------------------

Ian felt something was up that day; he felt something off about Mickey ever since he had stupidly came out to the guy. His main concern was that Mickey had put two and two together. Mickey wanted to question him on being gay because maybe Mickey had figured out that Ian, at this moment, was gay for a particular blond junior last named Milkovich. But then, just like that, Mickey had pretended that the day never happened. He never even brought it up once. And he’d become exceptionally quieter around him, a lot of gazing stares, like he was trying to read something but he just wasn’t getting it. Lip had had the same expression when they were in the van, when Lip insisted that being gay just wasn’t physically right or whatever. Mickey _said_ he didn’t care, but maybe he actually did. He was willing to lie to Mickey if it meant that they’d stay friends.

Ian sighed with relief when he found Mickey in the usual spot, in the usual position, against the wall outside of his Geometry class. His eyes were down, dark and flitting as if he was in deep thought. When his eyes roamed up, it took a second for them to come into focus. “Hey. So what’s the verdict?”

“B+,” Ian replied. He handed Mickey the paper and watched Mickey’s eyes roam again. “But, this week it was easy. Who knows what next week’s gonna be like.”

“Right,” Mickey agreed with no conviction.

Shit, Ian was gonna lose Mickey, all because he fucking liked him.

“You ok, dude?” Ian asked almost indifferently, making sure he didn’t sound too concerned.

Mickey met Ian’s eyes. He could tell Mickey had something to say, but all he did was shrug with a half smile. “Yeah, uh…you wanna go to the library after school? I need to check out some more books for my World Lit class.”

“Can we get something to eat after? I’m starving and I know for a fact my stomach’s gonna be wailing for these last two classes.”

To Ian’s relief, Mickey actually laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that.” He smacked Ian’s arm. “See you soon.”

And soon couldn’t have come soon enough. Mickey was doing that silent thing again that Ian’d usually be ok with because silence is golden or whatever, but he couldn’t help but feel that _he_ might have had something to do with the silence. He really needed a smoke to calm his nerves down, but they were too close to school and the school had a reputation to uphold. Plus, if any of his classmates, they’d talk. Didn’t matter if he was with the upstanding Mickey Milkovich.

“How’d you guys do on your project?” Mickey asked once they entered the main lobby of the library.

“Great,” Ian hesitated, taken aback by the fact that Mickey actually remembered.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look. That’s all you and Mandy’ve been talkin’ about for two weeks.”

Maybe if he’d just admit it, Mickey wouldn’t be so upset. Maybe if he just answered his questions, Mickey would finally accept him. “You can ask,” Ian stated.

“Ask what?” Mickey’s eyebrow’s scrunched together in confusion.

“Whatever you wanted to ask me on Wednesday…” he leaned closer and whispered, “about being gay.”

To Ian’s relief, Mickey did light up a bit at Ian’s allowance. “Cool.”

They got on the escalator, Mickey before Ian; then Mickey turned as they went up. “How long have you known?”

It was a standard question; Ian was grateful that Mickey was nice like that. “Uh, I guess since I was 12 or 13…I mean, I wasn’t confirmed until I hooked up with this guy…his name was Roger.” He kept his eyes on Mickey trying to decrypt the older boy’s expression. But he kept one look, as if he was just taking in the information.

They got up to the 3rd floor and headed to the elevator. Mickey pressed the button for the 7th floor and Ian raised an eyebrow. He’s only been there once before, at the library, for a school trip in 2nd grade. The children’s library was on the 2nd floor, so he’s never gone this far.

“Fantasy novels are on the 7th floor,” Mickey clarified as they got off on the floor.

Mickey led them to a long line of aisles with books, typical library stuff. But the thing was that Mickey had no idea what he’d be looking for so, he started at the front, working his way down the alphabet and the 27 rows.

“Have you had boyfriends after Roger?” Mickey asked nonchalantly, as if he was asking Ian if he saw last night’s fight on WWE.

Ian chewed his bottom lip. Mickey glanced at him when Ian didn’t answer. “What?”

“It’s gonna sound really bad,” Ian warned.

Mickey smirked, putting a book back on the shelf and turning so he faced Ian completely with arms folded. “Try me.”

“I work at this store, Kash&Grab. It’s in my neighborhood…I was ‘dating’ the owner…well, kinda…I was fucking him.”

Mickey tried; he really did try to keep his face as expressionless as possible, but _holy shit_. His eyes bugged out and his eyebrows raised high and he rolled his lips together.

“His wife found out and we didn’t really talk about it but…I think we pretty much ended it. I mean, I just kinda got tired of it.” That was a lie. He met Mickey. And after he met Mickey, even though there was _no_ way he’d ever be with him, he couldn’t even try to pretend with Kash. Even if he was still with Kash, he’d be imagining Mickey the one he was bending over and pounding hard into. He’d imagine it was Mickey’s ass clenching tight around his cock as he came.

Ian did that anyway, but he’d rather imagine it with his hand rather than have an actual guy on the receiving end like that. God, the boy wasn’t _heartless_.

“He was _married?_ ” Mickey exclaimed, a little too loudly for the silent area.

Ian decided it probably wasn’t best to mention Kash also had kids. Ian groaned. He wasn’t making this easier. He was probably making things worse. Mickey probably wasn’t even that warmed up to the fact that he was gay-now he probably thought Ian was a dirty asshat with no morals. With every word Ian said, he was waving his friendship with Mickey goodbye. He still had the same expression on his face. “Can you think of anything else to say?” Ian asked nervously, not really sure if he wanted to the answer to that question. “I mean, if you’re gonna tell me how bad that was, I get it…but…I have…daddy issues?” Ian tried.

Ian could see it. Mickey tried really hard not to burst out laughing at that. He hadn’t seen some much humor in his face. “Daddy issues?” Mickey repeated.

But Ian still looked nervous. “I thought this would make things better,” he mumbled, mostly to himself but Mickey must have heard. “I thought that…maybe if I answered your questions…you’d like…”

“That I’d ‘like’, what?” Mickey questioned his face serious once again.

Ian had been more confused than he was when he looked at porn for the first time and wondered if he liked it because of the girl or because of the guy. “I thought you were gonna ask me something else.” Ian should really stop talking. But he didn’t. “But you wouldn’t wanna know now right?” He gave a humorless laugh. “You probably think I’m dirty, I’m trash; I’m no better than the girls I grew up around.” He turned away, ready to walk away because he didn’t really want to hear Mickey confirm everything he’d just said. He should have really stopped talking.

And he wasn’t the only one to agree.

He felt Mickey’s firm grasp, something he’s felt a few times in the couple weeks that he’s been around Mickey. He learned quickly that this grasp meant he was serious. Ian let Mickey spin him around for the third time, and everyone knows: third time is always a charm.

Mickey surprised Ian-but that was the understatement of the year- when he pressed his full lips, the lips that Ian thought about and stared at when he was sure Mickey wasn’t look, to Ian’s. They were warm and soft, and in the second that he realized they were actually there, he wanted more. Mickey’s free hand cupped the back of Ian’s neck to pull him in closer and Ian obliged happily. Ian’s hand went for Mickey’s waist, wanting to hold onto him in any way he could, as Mickey backed them up against the bookshelf. Ian ignored the stab that shot down his back as the cold metal of the shelf hit him; he ignored it because there was a warmth spreading through him starting from…somewhere, he wasn’t sure where, but he knew where it spread to and he moaned slightly in the back of his throat as he felt Mickey’s tongue meet his and gripped evermore tightly to Mickey’s waist.

They pulled away, both chasing for sweet oxygen, and they looked at each other. Mickey licked his lips before dragging out, “Oooh fuck”. Ian nodded in agreement, replaying the last-how long were they even locked together? “If you could _actually_ read my thoughts, it wouldn’t have taken this long for us to get to this point,” Mickey confirmed in a hush.

Ian laughed with wide eyes. “You’ve known for three days,” he retorted. “You’re argument’s invalid.”

In almost the same moment, they looked around, remembering that they were in a public place and broke away reluctantly.

Mickey ran his thumb across his bottom lip passively, still feeling the hot wetness of Ian’s tongue. “Well, you’re not the only one hiding out in the closet,” Mickey garbled.

“Daddy issues?” Ian guessed with understanding.

Mickey made that half smile that tugged at Ian’s heart. He didn’t smile like that often; it was always a gift no matter what context it came in. “Yeah. Something like that.” He grazed his lower lip, blatantly looking Ian up and down the same way he had the day they met. He shrugged. “The guy’s a douchebag.”

Ian dropped his head, not wanting Mickey to see the blush that he could feel forming on his cheeks. “You still need to, uh,” he pointed to the book shelf behind Mickey, “find a book.”

Mickey shook his head quickly, never taking his eyes of Ian. “Nothing in this aisle. We better try the next one.” Mickey grinned backing away and leaving Ian to follow him with a knowing smile on his face.

“Great,” Ian called out in a loud whisper. “Now _I_ have questions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I just end it here? End it as a cliffhanger?


	8. Sense of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What was this? Even though Mandy said she was fine, she hadn’t been. Just because Gallagher liked guys didn’t mean she was over him- if only it were that easy; if it only it were as easy as that to get over an attraction for someone, but it’s not, it wasn’t. Maybe he should have felt guilty for sneaking around with Ian, in more ways than one. Maybe he’d tell her one day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. This is hard. Ok. I'll leave now.

Mickey lay in that state between sleep and consciousness. That state where you questioned whether what you heard was a dream or reality. He wasn’t sure if the dull thumping sound was part of his dream, and he wasn’t exactly sure about the muffled yet clear yelling that sounded like his father’s voice. But he was sure once his door was flying open and someone began to shake him violently.

“Mickey!” he heard Mandy exclaim. His eyes flew open in alarm.

“What the fuck!” He shot up in his bed and began rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. “What’s wrong?” His voice was calmer.

“Dad wants us to get up.” Her voice was tight and soft, like she was still in a state of sleep.

Mickey groaned and leaned forward, covering his face. “What the fuck for?” He glanced over at the clock on his stand, waiting for it to come into focus. He groaned again. “It’s 9 in the morning.”

Terry barged in, making noise with just his presence if that was possible. “Can’t get any shit done if you’re on your ass all day,” his booming voice stated. He stood in the doorway while Mandy and soon Mickey after followed out the room.

Once Mickey was out of the bathroom, he followed the noise coming from downstairs and found Mandy grabbing a skillet. Their dad wasn’t in the kitchen, so he spoke freely. “What’s up his ass this morning?” Mickey mumbled, standing next to her by the stove.

“Dad wanted me to cook breakfast for us since he’s leaving soon to go to that seminar thing.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Why can’t he make his own damn breakfast? Shit, he’s the one that wanted to go to that stupid thing.”

Mandy shrugged, icily nonchalant towards the ordeal. “As long as he gets out of the house quicker. Could you?” she asked, handing him the bacon package. He knew she hated frying bacon because of the oil backsplash. Mickey nodded in response, turning on the stove then taking the package from her.

Every thump that could be heard from where he stood irked Mickey to no end. He wasn’t much of a morning person in general, what with all the noise and people being active the moment they get out of bed- no, he couldn’t deal with that. But the fact that his dad was forcing them to do the same had him tense. Before those first few seconds of being in between rest and awake, he’d been dreaming about Ian- which he wasn’t going to even deny at this point because he pretty much made up his mind the moment he decided to kiss him. He’d been remembering them at lunch the day before, Ian asking the obvious questions about when he found out and why he never came out. He told the story of Cody and told a follow up story about how he was sure his dad would disown him if he ever found out his last son was gay:

_“You’ve seen where we live,” Mickey started. Once Ian confirmed his inquiry, he continued. “Well, you’d probably think that since the community is so big, we wouldn’t know much about each other. Well, that’s wrong. I know about most of the families living within 5 blocks of my house; I think I can go to as far as the fuckin’ train station at Roosevelt. Anyways, so I remember dad had gotten home early one of those odd days when he didn’t have to go to work. He was telling me about some kid, Jared, who lived a couple of blocks away. He was talkin’ to the guy’s parents and they’d mentioned something about Jared’s boyfriend asking him to prom or some shit.” Mickey paused, his stomach turning in illness at the memory of that dumb look of superiority and disgust his father had as he continued the story. “Let’s just say, ‘gay’ wasn’t the only way he referred to Jared at that point. My dad’s a conservative fucker. Gay’s not gonna cut it for his family.”_

_Ian stared in disbelief. He found out then that there could be many risks to what he and Mickey were._

Then the rustling came to their level once their dad had gotten down the stairs. Mostly everything was done being cooked. It was quiet when his dad spoke. “One of these days, you guys are gonna learn that you have to be up and at it before everyone else if you wanna make the extra buck.”

“Yup,” Mickey agreed curtly, gripping tight on the spatula as his placed the last of the pancakes on the plate.

He and Mandy carried everything to the dining room table and took their regular seats with their dad at the end of the table, Mandy right next to him, and Mickey on the other side of Mandy. They’d sat like that the very few times that they’ve actually eaten together since their mom died.

It was quiet for a while as they started to eat, and Mickey was pretty sure the tension radiating off him could fill the room by itself alone. He knew Mandy felt it. She spoke up anyways. “Hey, dad? Stacy’s throwing a party at her house-“

“She the one in Bridgeport?” Terry interrupted, never taking his eyes away from his food.

Mickey smirked. They’re all from Bridgeport, he thought.

“Yeah,” Mandy answered and continued. “She just told me about it tonight and I was wondering if I could go.”

“Doesn’t sound like they want you there.” His words clear and rang throughout the empty room.

Mickey didn’t have to look up to see that the statement stung at Mandy. He didn’t have to look up to see her flinch away at her own dad’s pessimistic attitude. And he wasn’t about to let the words burden her. “No,” Mickey argued. “No, it sounds like a last minute thing.” Mickey looked up to see his dad staring back at him. Mickey pasted on a mocking smile. “I mean, plans change, things come up. Stuff happens; we’re teenagers.”

Terry grunted, going back to finishing up his food. “You mean inconsiderate and lazy and selfish?” He turned to Mandy with a stern, cold look. “If you want to deflect your morals to hang out with some strugglers from Bridgeport, then go ahead. Don’t let me stop you.”

Mickey fell back in his seat. He didn’t even hide his frustration as he rolled his eyes and sighed heavily as his dad got up with his already empty plate. “Dad, come o-“

Terry raised a hand to stop Mickey’s exasperate pleading. “No, it’s fine. I get it. Just don’t stay out too long. And don’t do anything your mother wouldn’t do.” He mumbled the next part though Mickey’s pretty sure they all heard it clearly. “ _She_ wouldn’t go to a fuckin’ party.”

Mandy and Mickey stayed where they sat as their dad moved around, gathering everything he needed. When Mickey was sure he was heading for the stairs to go down, he spoke again. “Great,” he called out in a tone of mockery. Once Terry had gone down enough steps, Mickey raised his middle finger as he spoke his next words. “Have a nice time at the seminar.” Once he heard the doors close, he relaxed himself.

“Do you wanna go with me to her party?” Mandy asked after a few minutes of silence.

He shook his head slowly, feeling drowsiness creep back into him. “Stacy didn’t invite me.”

“She said I could bring anyone I wanted. I think she was hoping I’d bring you. She used to have a crush on you.”

Mickey quirked an eyebrow and smirked. “ _Used_ to? And why didn’t you ask Gallagher?”

“I was gonna text him in a bit. Just because we’re up doesn’t mean he is.”

“I think he’ll know how to read a text once he does wake up.” Mickey rose, taking his and Mandy’s plate to the kitchen. “Maybe I’ll drop by. She lives by US Cellular stadium right? I think I’ve taken you over there before.”

“Well, what are you gonna do ‘til then?” Mandy interrogated, following him to the kitchen.

He smiled, liking the plan that was coming to mind. “Stuff.”

Mandy stood there, staring at her brother. When she realized he wouldn’t elaborate, she exploded. “Fine! Don’t tell me. Sheesh, what’s gotten into you lately? Mr. Hidden Agenda.”

Remaining calm, he countered, “Patience, Mandy.”

She snorted. “Patience, my ass! You’re the most _im_ patient assface here!” She stopped herself, understanding she wouldn’t go anywhere with this conversation. “I’m done. Done.”

Mickey laughed silently as he watched his sister stomp up the stairs.

What was this? Even though Mandy said she was fine, she hadn’t been. Just because Gallagher liked guys didn’t mean she was over him- if only it were that easy; if it only it were as easy as that to get over an attraction for someone, but it’s not, it wasn’t. Maybe he should have felt guilty for sneaking around with Ian, in more ways than one. Maybe he’d tell her one day.

But today wouldn’t be that day. Whether it seemed like it or not, he came out to someone. And even though the person he came out to was gay as well, it was the fact that someone else knew. It was the fact that someone knew something so intimate that made it both scary and freeing; it was an overwhelming feeling that he just couldn’t go through again. Not right now.

 -----------------

Mickey walked down the steps at the Kedzi stop. Oh shit, which way had they turned when they got off this street? He remembers the first time he did this, he had this overwhelming feeling of what the fuck was he doing. And not to say that it was completely gone away, but he had more of a feeling of where the fuck was he. Mickey was pretty good with remembering places, but only to a certain extent. And since he wasn’t focusing much on where he was going rather than not encountering anyone, he could feel the anxiousness seep in. He couldn’t just stand here. He had to move.

To his relief, things were coming back to him, the corner store, the street name, and once he got to the street and saw that seeming ordinary house near the end of the street, he sighed. The neighborhood was still surprisingly quiet, and it gave him a sense of assurance, like it was like this all the time.

His heart raced similarly to the first experience as he walked up the steps. But he knew it wasn’t for the same reason. What if Ian didn’t like the fact that Mickey was intruding on the weekend? He knocked on the door and tried to breathe steadily. But he felt his heart stopped as the door opened because he was afraid it’d be Ian.

To his relief or disappointment, it wasn’t Ian. It was Carl. His face didn’t change; it stayed in that dazed indifferent look. “Hey Mickey,” he greeted in a dull tone. He went back and Mickey followed him inside, closing the door.

“Hey, is Ian here?” Mickey shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch, the same way he did last time.

Carl settled back on the couch. “He went for a run about half an hour ago. He should be back soon.”

Mickey nodded his head in understanding, and took in the silent house. “Where is everyone?” asked Mickey as he took a seat on the couch by Carl.

“Fiona went to work somewhere, Lip’s with Karen, Debbie took Liam to Sheila’s, and Steve went off to some rich neighborhood to steal cars.” His voice never changed, as if everything he said was normal, as if Mickey was just another family friend that knew what went on in the Gallagher’s world.

Mickey shrugged. He grabbed something from his pocket and handed it over in Carl’s direction. “One butterfly knife, as requested.” He enjoyed watching Carl’s face light up, as if Mickey had just given him the cure to cancer or an iridescent plant from another planet.

“Woah, seriously?” He examined it closely, opening it and running his finger lightly over the blade.

“It’s vintage, too. So make sure it doesn’t get into the wrong hands, k?”

Carl nodded quickly, still fondly fascinated by his new choice of weapon. “Can you teach me so tricks?”

Mickey shrugged again. “I could teach you a few.” Carl handed him back the knife and watched closely as Mickey swung it open, eyes widening as the lids smacked together. Even with his microscopic observation, he couldn’t see each swing, but only heard the blade snap into place and whip through the air. He ended with it being closed and handed it back to Carl.

“Jesus!” someone exclaimed as they burst through the front door. It was Ian. “I’m _starving_. Is there any bacon left?” Once Ian closed the second glass door, he turned to the couch to find Mickey staring back at him next to Carl. “Mickey?”

Mickey run his eyes over him, taking in the light sheen of sweat on his face and the shirt that outlined every muscle he had- holy shit, where had he been hiding _those_? “H-hey,” Mickey stuttered.

Ian jerked his head toward the staircase and Mickey nodded, getting up from where he sat and following Ian up. “Gimme a minute,” Ian called out, already peeling off his shirt. Was it even possible that such an innocent move could turn someone on? Well it did, and Mickey just stared as he Ian walked to the bathroom and closed the door.

 _Now_ he was questioning of what the fuck he was doing? As he walked to Ian’s room and sit down on his, he chewed on his lip, contemplating what he could say to Ian.

A few minutes later Ian walked in. Mickey watched his every move as he searched for another shirt, coming up with a black tank on the bunk bed. He was relieved Ian chose a thin fabric something that would cover up just enough so Mickey would have to try and avoid Ian’s body. Ian turned and leaned against the post of the bunk bed, looking Mickey up and down with dark eyes. “What brings you here, Mick?”

Mickey made a noise, something incoherent but understandable enough to know it meant he didn’t know. He lifted his shoulders. “Dad bein’ an ass way too early in the morning?” he ended it as a question, hoping that was a good enough reason to drop by Ian’s unexpectedly.

Ian hung his head low with a little smile. “My dad didn’t come home last. He’s probably passed out under so tracks or something.”  He looked up then and gave an accepting sigh. “But maybe we shouldn’t talk about them.”

Mickey raised a suggestive eyebrow as Ian walked over to sit next to him on the small bed.

“I saw you bought Carl the knife he wanted,” Ian observed.

“I didn’t buy it,” Mickey corrected. “It was my moms. But all of her army stuff stays in a little box in the back of my closet.” He watched Ian’s eyes bug out. “Oh yeah, my mom was in the army,” Mickey added last minute.

Ian laughed. “I tell you I wanna get into West Point and maybe the correlation didn’t snap?”

Mickey laughed back. “I didn’t think about it. She taught me a lot of combat fighting skills. Taught me how to shoot a gun and with aim, how to throw daggers. All the cool stuff.”

“Is that why you wanted to know if I knew how to shoot a gun?”

Mickey grazed his bottom lip between his teeth, remembering the actual reason for asking the young red head. “Somethin’ like that,” he answered. He took a deep breath, letting his eyes meet Ian’s. “So you ran?” he asked to change the subject.

Ian nodded. “8 miles.”

Mickey backed off, seeing Ian fully. “ _You ran 8 miles_?”

Ian swayed his head and rolled his eyes. “Ok, 7- I speed walked my 6th mile,” he admitted. When he saw that Mickey‘s expression didn’t change he scooted closer. “So, about yesterday.”

Mickey’s breath caught before he gained his abilities again. He gave a shaky laugh. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

“Not when the guy that kissed me like that yesterday sits on my bed tryna’ make small talk.” Ian raised an eyebrow, watching Mickey’s lips.

Mickey could feel his blood rush under his skin. He’d been asking himself something a minute ago-What was he doing- was that it? Whatever he was telling himself, he’d forgotten it then. Ian was way too close and he smelled faintly of a 7 mile run with a 1 mile speed walk. He was teetering, hanging in the space so close to his lips and too far away. Mickey decided to close the distance, pressing his lips to Ian’s again. He pushed forward, wanting more than what Ian was giving initially. And Ian gave Mickey exactly that.

Mickey wasn’t exactly sure when it happened, but he rested on his back with Ian holding onto his forearms with a firm grasp. When Ian pulled away to collect his breath, looking more winded than he did coming back home this morning, Mickey chuckled. “Shit, did I catch you in the midst of puberty?”

Ian grinned, his hands sliding up Mickey’s arms until their hands were together and their fingers were entwined. In the same movement, Ian ground down, and Mickey’s breath hitched. “I guess so,” Ian whispered. “I’m still pretty hungry.” He bit down on the skin right under his ear and as Mickey tried to hold back some noise, he realized no one’s ever touched him like this before. He wasn’t supposed to be turned on by Ian’s tongue on his neck…was he? Every lick that left Mickey writhing under Ian as the cool air hit…this wasn’t supposed to be so…

Ian brought his lips back to Mickey’s, and Mickey sighed heavily against Ian’s pants. This he could understand. He could understand Ian’s lips and tongue. He could understand the moan that rippled through his chest as Ian grazed his teeth on Mickey’s lip-

The door opened and Ian was off of him in an instant, and Mickey followed with straightening up.

Lip acknowledged neither of them as he made a beeline for the desk, opening drawers and rummaging through them before closing them. In one drawer, he held up a small bag of weed and stuffed it in his back pocket. As he left, he glanced at both of them and stopped at the door, on hand on the knob of the door. “I’m just glad he’s actually you’re age,” Lip stated, then proceeded to close the door.

They sat there in silence except for their heavy breathing. Ian fell back on his bed, his legs dangling off the side. After a few minutes of quiet, he asked, “What does this mean?”

Mickey let his head fall to the side. He contemplated, shifting himself so that he sat closer with his back leaning against the wall. “The way I see it, my dad’s verbally abusive and neglectful; _your_ dad’s physically abusive and neglectful. We’re a perfect match.” He looked down to see Ian looking up at him with a relaxed smile. He reciprocated, feeling lighter than before even though his heart was just now coming down from whatever marathon it’d been in.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Ian asked. “To know there are people who don’t give a shit?”

Mickey wished he could agree. Who was Lip to him? Lip wasn’t Mandy, but maybe Lip was _Mickey’s_ Mandy: the person that he could tell and know that they wouldn’t judge him.

Ian’s phone vibrated on the dressed at the other end from where they sat. Mickey reached for it and handed it to Ian. “Mandy just invited me to her friend’s party.” Mickey noticed the hint of disappointment in the red head’s voice.

He felt one side of his lips tug up. “Yeah, she invited me, too.” He could hear it in the way Ian took in another breath. Mickey spoke before Ian could ask the question. The words had spun in his head, knocking at every wall they could until he uttered them. “How about we ditch it and just hang out.”

Ian sat up on his elbows, getting a better view of the blond. “You sure?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Ian shrugged. “Ok, but the more you get comfortable to things, the harder it’s gonna be to hide.”

Mickey looked down, hearing the understatement in Ian’s words. He was saying that if he planned on keeping him-them- a secret, this wasn’t the best option. But Mickey didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t think about what his dad might think or when he’d tell Mandy. He just wanted to hold onto this feeling of freedom on this tiny bed with Ian lying at his side.

He could think about everything else later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad that I wanna add smut but I'm awful at it? I'm sorry


	9. Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But knowing that Terry wasn’t around, knowing there was no interruption in plans in fear of being caught. Not having to sneak around in the empty house standing 3 stories high, it was all kind of…freeing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, long time no talk! Sorry this took so long.

Ian and Mickey shared a groan as they paused in front of the doorway to the cafeteria. The weather had finally gotten bad with a snowstorm to kick off the… _middle_ of fucking December?

It was almost foreign to either boy. It’d been weeks for Ian since he sat in that cafeteria, months for Mickey. And Mickey usually went out during any weather, whether that be rain or snow, but this time the staff made sure they couldn’t go out during the storm.

“I think we found Mickey’s kryptonite,” a girl mumbled loud enough for Mickey to hear as she passed him with a wink. Ian hadn’t paid much mind to her until he saw the girl throw her arm around Mickey’s shoulder with a slight jostle. She had a caramel skin tone, shoulder length black hair and dark brown eyes to tie in her features.  She started guiding him over to a table and he glanced back, motioning for Ian to follow.

Oh. Mickey actually has friends. He’s seen them in the halls before, but for some reason it never wrapped all the way around Ian’s brain that Mickey actually had a life outside of the hour that they spent together during lunch. And he was about to see what this life consisted of as he stood behind Mickey.

The same girl looked back to Ian and gave Ian a friendly smile. “Don’t you wanna sit down?”

“Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know who you are,” Mickey explained, rolling his eyes and pulling out the seat next to him.

The girl mimicked his expression and went to introduce herself as Ian took a seat. “I’m Carmen.”

“Ian.”

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” she asked, talking more to herself as her mind raced with why she couldn’t have possibly seen him before.

“I transferred here,” Ian answered, not willing to take the look on her face as she thought hard.

“Oh...” she trailed, still waiting for things to connect. It suddenly hit her. “ _Oh_.”

“Really?” some guy called out as he approached the table with a tray. He grinned, sitting across from Carmen. “A little bit of snow and you’re cowering in the confines of this place?”

Mickey flicked the guy off, not afraid of being seen in the quickly crowding room. “It’s a fuckin’ storm, dude.” He waved his hand in absence. “This is Chris,” Mickey informed Ian. “And this is Ian.”

Chris nodded his head, his brown eyes scanning Ian quickly. “Yeah, I know. The transfer sophomore that’s friends with Mandy. “

“I heard my name,” Mandy exclaimed as she tackled Chris in a hug from behind. “Ian,” she scoffed. Standing up straight, Mandy put her hand on her hips theatrically. “What, too cool to hang out with your own class? I was hoping you’d sit with us.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “You mean the Pre-Teen Crew?” Chris and Carmen cooed in the background as Ian flinched when Mandy reached over the table to smack his head. With a laugh, he ended, “No thanks.”

Mickey smiled, feeling his stomach explode at the thought of Ian choosing him over Mandy. It may seem childish but he won, somehow.

 -----------

By the end of the day, the storm had died down, at least for an hour or two. “Wanna go for round two?” Mandy whispered, slinking up to Ian’s side and interlacing their fingers together.

Not missing a beat, Ian clasped on and smiled. “Round two of what?”

“My dad left last night for a business trip in Florida. And Mickey and I have the house to ourselves for about 4 days. He’s coming back on Sunday night-“

“Mands,” he interrupted. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“But it’s actually a very good idea. The cool thing is that it could be a sleep over. And we’re gonna talk about boys and watch movies. Ugh, I love Field Day Friday.”

Ian laughed. “You should’ve told me earlier. I could have brought clothes with me then.”

Mandy shrugged it off. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure you could fit some of Mickey’s clothes.”

Ian’s heart stuttered for some odd reason. Maybe it was the image of Mickey tossing him one of his shirts, what could have happened before then…

They exited, still linked together by their hands, and Ian caught sight of Lip. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Ian’s mind reeled at whatever could be Lip’s reason for being down here in this weather.

Once Lip stood in front of Ian and Mandy, he replied. “It was a half day. They didn’t want any of the students tryin’ to trudge through the snow that’s, uh,” he examined the ground and the slushy mess of the snow, “apparently not sticking that much.” His eyes flitted to Mandy, who stood wordlessly, disoriented and still wondering who he was. Before Ian could get the chance to introduce them, Lip did so on his own will. “I’m Lip,” he greeted, holding out his hand.

Mandy didn’t hesitate to take her hand from Ian’s and shake Lip’s. “I’m Mandy. You’re the older brother that Ian’s talked so fondly of.”

Ian gave out a short breath. “I barely talk about him.”

Lip gave a half smile. “Well, fuck you. Turns out I don’t need you to show people I’m amazing.”

“I feel kinda bad, dude. I mean…” Ian nudged Mandy. “I was gonna sleep over at her house tonight.”

Lip smirked against his will. “Oh really?” He turned to Mandy. “Well, have fun with him, with that.” He sighed. “Well I guess I’ll just get back on the train, spend another 2.25 because my brother can’t text for shit.”

Ian punched Lip playfully. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Watching Lip walk away, Mandy leaned up to Ian and mumbled, “You’re brother’s _really_ hot.”

Ian nodded. “He’s also really taken.”

“I thought you said he was dating a slut. I mean, if dating a slut is even possible.”

His lolled over that realization. Mandy had a point.

 ----------

Being back in that house almost seemed like déjà vu. He’d been there before, but he hadn’t. And as he stepped inside, went through the whole ordeal yet again of taking off his shoes, putting his coat away, he had a sense of dreaming. He floated up the stairs, remembering the feel of the carpet yet feeling it for the first time; watching her turn on the kitchen light as she told him to take a seat in stool.

But knowing that Terry wasn’t around, knowing there was no interruption in plans in fear of being caught. Not having to sneak around in the empty house standing 3 stories high, it was all kind of…freeing.

She threw a bag of chips on the counter and rummaged quickly in the fridge before producing a bottle of Sun-Up.  “I’m thinkin’ we should play some videogames. How does _Grand Theft Auto_ sound?”

Ian’s jaw slacked. “How does _Grand Theft Auto_ sound? Did you seriously just ask that question?”

Mandy giggled as Ian bound down the stairs excitedly.

They had played for a while, maybe a good 45 minutes before they heard rumbling from the front door. Ian smirked at how neither got nervous, sure it would be Mickey.

And it was. Mickey walked in, sighing as he shrugged out of his coat and hat and gloves. His cheeks were faintly red from the cold, as Ian saw. He noticed the immediate shock on his face that quickly dissipated to an apathetic expression. “Douche bags,” he greeted his eyes never leaving Ian’s as he made his way up the stairs.

“Assface,” Mandy mumbled, her lips curled up. “Ian what happened!” she exclaimed when she noticed his player.

Ian snapped his eyes back to the game on the giant screen of their television. He mumbled his apology and continued the game. He fought the urge to just get up and follow Mickey up the stairs, finding another empty part of the house where they could be alone.

Mickey’s feet were dull against the stairs as he hurried down, flopping next to Mickey and sliding in close. He snatched up Ian’s controller, and winked at him as he stretched out his legs to the coffee table where the chips and pop laid.

 ----------

“What can I do to help?” Ian asked, leaning back against the counter next to where Mickey stood over the cutting board.

Mickey looked up through his lashes, eyeing as Mandy trudged up the stairs. When he was sure that she was in her room, he grabbed Ian’s arm and pulled him closer and brought him in for a kiss. And the kitchen was quiet again save from the silent hush as their lips parted and came together again; apart from the quiet slide of Mickey’s hand sliding up Ian’s arm; all quiet minus the occasional moan that bubbled in Ian’s chest when Mickey’s teeth with drag across his lower lip.

Pulling back, Mickey turned away-not without noticing that he had to settle back on his heels a bit-, biting his lip to prevent the smile that was pushing forcefully past his lips. “Thanks for helpin’, Gallagher,” he spoke softly. “You can...” his eyes roamed over the preparations.

“What are you even making?” Ian asked, looking at the cut up spinach, tomatoes, and the pile of corn and peas.

“Vegetable pizza.” Mickey sighed as he watched Ian’s dumfounded expression. “Our mother used to make it when she was alive and Mandy loves it. It’s kinda sweet with the corn on it. Don’t worry big guy,” he started, patting Ian’s chest and storing in how much more defined it was than what he imagined. “There’s meat on it, too. It’s store bought; we just add the vegetables on it.”

Ian watched Mickey take out a pizza from the fridge and saw his fingers work as he sprinkled on the various items. “You guys don’t talk about her much,” he observed quietly, speaking as an afterthought.

Mickey scrunched his shoulders. “How am I supposed to bring her up? And besides, talking about her just makes us miss her more.” He slid the pizza in the oven and listened to the heat flow through as he closed the door. Looking back to Ian, he continued. “She made living with our dad tolerable, you know? She was the one person that made things ok. But it was because, instead of fighting with us, he’d fight with her. Same stuff, over and over again. And sometimes I think she’d say the wrong things just so he wouldn’t turn to any of us.” There was tightness in his chest as he spoke the next words. “But even then, she was the only one that could bring out any good in him. She’d be the one that would have him playing with us, rolling around, _laughing_ as if he wasn’t thinking about how screwed up our futures would be for some trivial reason.” It was quiet again, but the silence wasn’t awkward. If anything, both of them needed that quiet time, if anything to just think about how different each other’s lives were and how very similar they stood.

“God,” Mandy sighed in exasperation as she came down the stairs in her flannel pants and tank top. “Why is so quiet down here?”

“Pizza should be done in a few minutes,” Mickey stated without answering her question.

 -----------

Mandy dragged Ian up to her room, which he was not surprised to find, fit her perfectly: dark purple bed spread, dark stained wooden dresser and accessories. It all came together flawlessly. And it was massive. Or maybe it just seemed that way because it was clean. He stood in the doorway and looked to the door that Mickey closed with a slam just moments ago.

“Oh,” Mandy said, catching Ian’s look to Mickey’s room. “You should probably get something to sleep in from him.”

Ian forced himself not to look so eager as he walked the few steps to stand in front of Mickey’s door, the door keeping him from seeing all that would fulfill his curiosities. He knocked twice.

“What?” Mickey asked as he opened the door.

“I kinda need something to sleep in.”

Mickey gave Ian his heart stopping half smile. “A bed would probably be the best thing.”

“Smartass,” Ian mumbled as he followed Mickey into his room. He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting though he did spend quite some time on the train ride over about what Mickey Milkovich’s room looked like. But even if he couldn’t get a clear picture, he knew for sure he wasn’t expecting this: posters of games, various drawings and sketches, and what would be vandalism if it was on the side of a bridge rather than on Mickey’s wall. The room was about the same size as Mandy’s though not as tidy. There on the floor and on the dresser lay were random shirts and papers.

“I’m not exactly sure when I agreed to give you all my fuckin’ clothes, though,” Mickey stated, slinking over to his dresser and bending down to open the drawer on the bottom. He made sure to make a show of it as he rummaged through the contents to find a pair of sweats. He walked over, placing the pair against his chest, watching Ian’s eyes entranced in the older boy’s every move.

Ian backed off, inching towards Mickey not so neatly made bed and tossed the sweats on the bed, his eyes never leaving Mickey’s.

Mickey watched attentively as Ian’s long fingers went to his belt buckle. His heart picked up speed; he wasn’t supposed to be watching this, but he couldn’t take his eyes away as he made work of his zipper, pulling it down and grasping his waist band. How the fuck could Ian make taking off jeans to result in an ordinary pair of boxers seem so seductive. Did he know? Mickey shook his head internally. Of course Gallagher knew what he was doing. And the way those green eyes bore into his, Mickey was pretty sure that those eyes were noticing every twitch on his face, every movement in his body at that moment.

Ian spoke, his voice heavy. “I usually go to bed in just my boxers, but I’m not gonna miss my chance.” He grinned hard. Then, without show, he grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head, the aftermath being a bit of messy hair that Mickey could use for his imagination.

Ian guessed he should have felt something of awkward standing there with his shoulders bare in this unfamiliar place. But he was under the warmth of Mickey’s conscientious blue eyes and he felt right at home. He almost hate to leave it like this, the air so thick that maybe the only way to breathe through it was with Mickey’s lips flush against his own. But Mandy waited, he knew. And if he stayed there too long, she’d get suspicious. So he made a promise that both knew they could hold to.

“Later, Mick,” he cooed, sauntering pass the still engrossed Mickey.

The only response Mickey gave was the raise of an eyebrow and the slow bite of his lower lip. It was hard to feel uncomfortable when the only other person could read you like that.

Ian took a deep breath as he closed the door, needing a moment to assess what he just did.

Mandy was lying on her bed, focused on the tiny screen on her laptop. When he closed her door, she patted the bed next to her, motioning for him to lie next to her. He scratched at his eyebrow with his thumb, making a quick way to her bed. He felt her eyes glaze over his barely clothed chest and the lose fitting sweats that outlined just the right parts of him, like his ass, and pooling a bit at his feet. She felt that pang of regret again, and voiced it. “Are you sure you’re gay?”

Ian laughed with a snort. “Yes, Mandy. I’m absolutely positive.” He laid in the same position she did, getting comfortable by getting on his side and letting his head rest in the palm of his hand.

“But how do you know?”

“The same way you know you like boys,” he said as if the answer was obvious-which it really was.

She nodded in understanding. “You think about kissing them.”

Only one came to mind. Mickey’s imaged flashed in his head and suddenly he could feel the warmth of his lips and his tongue; the way their tongues would fight or dance- there was a fine line, Ian soon realized. And the image that flashed had gotten further, where Ian’s tongue lips and teeth had traveled its way down his jaw, down his neck, tasting every part of him and leaving marks wherever he wanted and seeing Mickey bite his lip to hold back whatever noise he so wanted to make.

Ian cleared his throat. “Among a lotta things, yeah, kissin’s one of them.”

“But have you tried girls before?”

Ian rolled his eyes, a bit annoyed at Mandy not getting the point, as if she wasn’t aware of what it meant to be gay. He stuck his hand out, ready to do something girls at his school would be dying for, really. But Mandy wasn’t some South Side Skank. “May I?” he asked, seeing Mandy watch his hand.

She nodded in understanding. She took out her nearest hand and let Ian direct right over his groin. He smirked, thinking that Mandy had gotten somewhere in between 2nd and 3rd base before the actual person he wanted to get there with hadn’t.  After that was done, and after watching Mandy try to control her facial expressions, he took the same hand and cupped one of her boobs. And he looked at nothing, waiting for Mandy to feel what he’s always felt towards girls.

They stayed in that position for a few seconds before Mandy took her hand away with a giggle. Ian let his hand fall back to where it laid. “See? I’m not wired for chicks.”

“Ok, fine. But that just means that now you can sleep in my bed with ease. I hope being gay doesn’t mean you can’t cuddle with me.” She smiled expectantly, knowing Ian wasn’t going to refuse.

He looked to the door, not sure if later would be tonight or a few days.

 ----------

Mickey stood outside Mandy’s door, ready to knock and make some excuse to join them. He raised his hand then stopped. Fuck knocking. “Yo, fuckers,” he greeted, opening the door. He wasn’t really prepared for the sight he saw.

Ian sat up against the headboard with a sleepy Mandy resting her head against Ian’s chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Their eyes met and he could almost hear Ian apologizing because his fucking cock blocking sister had Ian wrapped around her pinky.

“What do you want?” Mandy mumbled, her voice showing how sleepy she really was, her focus not even on whatever movie they had been watching on her laptop.

Mickey was about to answer but saw that she probably wasn’t even listening. He turned back to Ian, catching the red head checking over him from head to toe. He flipped off Ian, knowing that his suggestive eyes wouldn’t be productive tonight, seeing his position.

He closed the door, heading back to his room with a slam of his door. He was going to have to tell Mandy soon.


	10. Coming Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " 'Gallagher,' Mickey countered, noting how heavy and sleep ridden his voice sounded. 'Mandy’s going to Orland.'  
> Ian was silent, uncomprehending. 'Good for her?' And at the same moment that Mickey spoke, Ian understood, blurting out with, 'Oh!' "
> 
> (also known as my first and worst attempt at smut)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To kick off the first Sunday with no Shameless...and because it's been a while and this was the hardest chapter to write ever, I hope it's good enough. This is my first attempt at smut and I may be very bad; I'm sorry.

Ian’s woke up to this feeling a few times before: the feeling where you wake up and momentarily forget where you were and how you got there. Though, times before, Ian’s woken up to a stiff neck, in an awkward position because it was either a camping trip or some curbside with Fiona and Lip at either side. But this time was different.

Ian rose from his haze, moaning at how comfortable he felt, though he could feel his mind wonder. Purple sheets, black locks in his face that smelled of- what was that? Some type of berry mix? Whatever it was, it made Ian really hungry. Oh right, he was in Mandy’s room. He lifted his body, getting a clearer view of the sleeping Milkovich curled up on his chest.

“You can go before me if you want,” Mandy mumbled with slight audibility.

He nodded, feeling more awake the longer he sat there. He handled her with care, resting her back on her bed as he lifted the covers and climbed over her and out of the bed.

 --------------

Mickey pushed at Mandy’s door weekly, still a little light with sleep. Finding her through hazey eyes still bundled up in her covers, Mickey grabbed the closest thing he could get to on her dresser and aimed for her head. He didn’t even make sure if he’d gotten close, but took her very clear “fuck you” as a sign that he had. “Where’s Firecrotch?” Mickey called out, guessing already that he was in the bathroom.

“Tell him to get his ass out of the shower so I can get one in.”

Mickey stood at the bathroom door, hearing the shower turn off. “Why don’t you get up and tell him yourself?” Mickey stayed at the door, contemplating if he really wanted to try and…well, he wasn’t really sure.

As he turned back, thinking it best not to, the door swung open. He kept his head forward, not wanting to catch however Ian looked at that moment with wet hair and whatever else was going on.

“Mornin’” Ian greeted his voice thick.

Mickey gave a single wave as he walked back to his room.

 -------------

“I’m sure no one’s gonna notice,” Mickey reassured Ian, watching from his stool as he paced around the kitchen. “You’re gonna have a coat on for half the fuckin’ time,” he pointed out.

Ian scoffed, finding himself right in front of the grinning Mickey. “Like I give a flying fuck what they notice or not. They’ve got a lot to hate me for; what does it matter if they add…’outfit repeater’ to that list?”

Mickey did the slow blink and took a deep breath. “You know no one at school hates you, right?” As he saw Ian began to speak, he quickly added, “Or is afraid of you. What’s a skinny ginger gonna do to them?”

Ian dared to move closer, his voice going lower. “Skinny?”

Mickey gave a smile of acceptance. He was silent for a few seconds, pushing Ian back again. “I think I’m gonna tell Mandy?”he proposed solemnly.

“Tell me what?” Mandy exasperated as she walked down the stairs. Ian quickly slid to the side, resting against the counter at a safe enough distance.

“We’re out of pancake mix,” Mickey answered quickly, not allowing room for falters.

“Then we can toast some damn poptarts, Mickey, God,” she scoffed and rolled her eye as if Mickey had to be the slowest person alive. “We have to go anyways. I think they said we had to be there fifteen minutes early so they can account for everyone on the bus.”

Mickey made work of dropping some strawberry filled poptarts in the toaster. “Where are you guys going again?”

“Northwestern University college visit,” Ian answered. “I know Mands is excited: big and open.”

A minute later, their breakfast popped up, and Mickey clapped his hands together once. “Alright then, losers, let’s get goin’ before I don’t care anymore.”

 ---------------

“Hey,” Mickey called to Mandy as he saw her walk by herself over from where the bus dropped them off in the rather small parking lot of their school. “Where’s Firecrotch?”

Mandy smirked. “Why do you keep calling him that? Why?” she giggled. “Were you _waiting_ for him?”

Well, yes, Mickey wanted to say. The only thing that Mickey hoped for was the thought of being able to hang out with Ian after he got back from the university.

“He got on the train by the college. Something about him having to get home for some reason. I think something’s happening with his family.”

Mickey nodded, trying to feign interest in Ian’s familial affairs. “So, dad called. Both of us, actually.” Mickey changed the subject, sharing the quick change in Mandy’s mood.

Mandy checked her phone, seeing she had about 3 missed calls, all from her dad. “Well what the fuck does he want? I was attending to school type things.”

Mickey shrugged. “I tried to tell him that when I called back a few minutes ago. Didn’t have it. He hung up on me.” Despite Mickey’s words, he laughed. He seriously couldn’t care less if his dad was mad at him nowadays.

They stood there for a minute in silence before Mickey shrugged with a deep sigh and patted Mandy’s shoulder starting to walk past her.

“Woah,” she cut off, grabbing his arm. “Were you seriously waiting for Ian? Since when were you guys so buddy-buddy?” Her blue eyes cut into slits as she tried to do a deep examination of her brother.

Mickey had a moment of hesitation. Now was his chance. She inquired, and he could totally answer. But it didn’t seem right. Now wasn’t the right time.

She stepped closer and whispered, “Are you guys doing drugs together?”

The question knocked Mickey back and he couldn’t help but feel offended, though he wasn’t sure if it was for himself or for Ian’s sake. How could she possibly believe that Mickey did drugs? Why would she even think Ian-

Well, he could understand why she thought- yeah. He was more offended for Ian’s sake. He knew that if Ian heard her ask that, he’d contemplate the worse, asking Mandy to clarify to see if she was asking for the reason it seemed like she was asking for.

“No,” Mandy clarified, seeing Mickey’s expression. “I didn’t mean like that. I just meant… I know you smoke. Maybe the stress of this year is getting to you? what with ACTs and all this college prepping.”

Mickey could feel a wall sprout up from his inner ground. He back away from her grip now. “Nope. No, you are not about to talk to me about college.”

Mandy sighed with exasperation. “Mickey, I wasn’t trying to-“

“I’m gonna go home and sleep or something.”

He took out his phone, hoping to find some release in the next best form of communication rather than face-to-face.

_Mickey: Gallagher_

_Ian: …_

_Mickey: I got your number from Mandy’s phone chill_

_Ian: how fuckin hard would it have been to just say “its mickey”?_

Mickey grinned to himself, feeling his anger seep from him.

_Mickey: wtf happened to you? got tired of my house that quickly?_

_Ian: nope_

_Ian: got tired of having to back away whenever mandy came around_

Mickey stopped where he was on the steps, not sure how to respond. He stared at the text until the phone went black on its own and continued up the stairs, feeling a fluttering sensation in his stomach, bubbling up to his chest and ending up on his face as he kept his tight grin all the way through the turnstile and up the stairs and on the platform as he waited for the train to come.

Once the train come and he’d found a seat in the corner of the train, he took out his phone.

_Mickey: so whyd you get back on the train at the fuckin school?_

_Ian: Something incredibly crazy and I dont think you wanna know_

_Mickey: if I didnt wanna know why would I ask dumbass_

_Ian: I just cant explain it through text_

Mickey thought of his reply, changing it three times from “well you have my number” to “try me” to “cant say it over text? that could easily be arranged”.

He mulled over what he could respond with as he got off the train, passing through busy people only interested in getting to their destinations in the shortest amount of time possible.

He got to his house, still not knowing what to reply with. He sighed, deciding to go with “maybe later” just to keep the conversation going. He’d gotten settled into his bed, not realizing how truly exhausted he was until he’d discarded his bags and coat and most of his clothes and settled into his bed.

_Ian: hold on. Gotta take care of the situation_

Mickey’s mind wandered. What could the situation possibly? Did it involve Ian holding a gun? Did it involve fighting for his sibling’s honor? Was that supposed to be as hot as Mickey felt it to be?

Before he could even realize, he’d drifted off to sleep.

 -------------

In the time span of two days, Mickey had turned into his sister: a fifteen year old girl.

He’d spent most of the time in bed or on his couch, texting Ian about meaningless things and the really deep things when it rolled around to 2 o’clock in the morning. He faintly remember Mandy mentioning that was what she did with Cody a few weeks after camp. She never mentioned him a month after that, so that’s when he knew Cody was gone for good. And though he did want to worry for many reasons (he wasn’t trying to grow a pair of tits and start getting all batshit emotional) he reminded himself of a few things on why Ian wasn’t Cody. Ian, for one, was gay. That was it, actually. And he still couldn’t get over that one simple, game changing fact.

“Yo,” Mandy blurted out as she swung open Mickey’s door on Sunday. “I’m going to Orland with Maya and Stacy.”

Mickey grumbled. “Why the fuck are you going so early?”

“It’s noon, dipshit. I just wanted to tell you so you know that I’ll be home before dad gets back.”

“And how the hell are you getting out to Orland, pray- _fuckin_ -tell?” Mickey finally opened his eyes to glance at Mandy’s form at his door.

“Maya’s sister is givin’ us a ride, duh. Do something productive today, for fuck’s sakes. Go meet up with that chick you’ve been texting all weekend.” Seeing Mickey’s face sprout to alertness she nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. I’m not blind, Mick, _Jesus_. Ok. See ya later.” She closed the door and made her way down the stairs before Mickey heard the softest “Love you” ever.

Mickey tried to go back to sleep before his phone vibrated on his nightstand. He doesn’t even remember what he and Gallagher had been talking about-

Mickey sat up quickly, the realization coming all at once. He was brought to all too quickly; feeling in his hands and feet and everywhere in between came rushing to him as he fumbled for his phone, not even bothering to read whatever the text said.

Once he heard the phone ringing, he could feel himself steadying a bit.

Ian picked up, acknowledging with, “Mickey.”

“Gallagher,” Mickey countered, noting how heavy and sleep ridden his voice sounded. “Mandy’s going to Orland.”

Ian was silent, uncomprehending. “Good for her?” And at the same moment that Mickey spoke, Ian understood, blurting out with, “Oh!”

“Yeah,” he slid from out of his covers, starting the phone-conversational pace. “So, I have a few hours with an empty house…” Why the fuck couldn’t he just get the words out? He needed a massive shot of hormones in his system. “A-and, you know, there wouldn’t be anyone to, like, you know.”

He listened to the low chuckle that came from Ian, and the sound went straight through him, igniting his weary presence. “Mick, is that your way of asking me to come over?”

“Maybe you could keep your voice down? What if one of your 500 siblings hears you?”

“Right, right,” Ian agreed mockingly. “Hey, Liam, you know anything about booty calls?” Mickey rolled his eyes as he heard the giggling coming from the youngest Gallagher. “Didn’t think so.”

Mickey wanted to correct him. Shit, it wasn’t just a booty call. They’d do other stuff, too. But there was no plausible way of saying any of that without sounding like he was getting an extra dose of estrogen. “Whatever, just get your ass over here.” He hung up, not waiting for Ian’s answer.

\-------------- 

Ian turned in front of Mickey’s gate, but not before getting deflected by two rabbits hopping their way across the street. He’d texted Mickey seconds prior, and was able to point back to the rabbits as Mickey unlocked the gate. “You know you guys have rabbits in your yard?”

Mickey laughed. “Yeah. We have a few foxes, too. One of my neighbors found one on her porch, dead little bunny hanging from its mouth. She even showed me the pictures.”

Ian wanted to ask how foxes even got into their neighborhood, but knew he didn’t care that much.

“So, you gonna tell me now what the massive rush was on Friday?” Mickey asked after they got situated on the couch on the first floor.

Ian signaled slowly, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “There’s really no way to say this without it sounding bad, but…” he looked to Mickey with a sheepish grin. “My little sister stole a kid.”

Mickey stared, unsure if he heard that correctly. “Sorry, what? ‘ _Stole’_ a kid? Like, kidnapped?” He remembered the innocent Debbie Gallagher, Ian’s girl incarnate with the sparkling hazel eyes and fiery red hair like her older brothers, with color in her fluffy cheeks. “How did that happen?”

Ian shook his head. “It’s a long story; involves an old lady pretending to be our Aunt Ginger, a baby stroller.” He huffed out a laugh. “Guess it’s not really easy to explain in person either, is it?”

“It was just a misunderstanding, right?” Though, Mickey couldn’t find a away kidnapping could be an actual misunderstanding.

“Yeah, yeah. Turns out Debbie just missed our Aunt…it was crazy, man. They had a whole search party goin’ for that little boy. Fiona’s in pretty good standing with the guy in charge, Tony. That guy has a massive crush on her. I think he might even be infatuated with her. It’s kinda sad to watch.”

Listening to Gallagher talk about the situation of this Tony person made guilt spread through Mickey at an exceptionally quick rate. The tables were turned differently in his issue, but somehow, he couldn’t stop thinking of how he had to tell Mandy. The idea was gnawing at his insides at this point.

Ian could see it, the change in Mickey’s demeanor. “So…by telling Mandy…” he pushed.

“I have to, don’t I?” Mickey’s voice sounded desperate, like he hadn’t a choice; that’s how he felt and that was the truth of it. “I mean, she knows you’re gay. How would she react to finding out about me?”

Ian shrugged. “I gotta say, though. Lip was more upset that I didn’t tell him more so than me actually being gay. I’m supposed to tell him everything. That’s what we do.”

Mickey snorted. Ian and Lip were brothers. Mickey had two of those and he wasn’t as close as Ian was to Lip. What went wrong there? But he could see that he had a chance to have what Ian has with Lip with Mandy. He’d always been closest to her anyways. Probably because they were only a year apart while Iggy and Joey were a few years ahead, always closer to their father’s treads while their mom would take care of him and Mandy and hold them back.

“You don’t talk much about your mom,” Mickey stated, repeating Ian’s prior words.

Ian shrugged again, radiating a forced indifference to the mention of her. “Not much to say. I’m supposed to look like her the most, but that seems to be the only thing we share at this point. She has her own issues- mental ones, on top of doing drugs. I already told you she comes around- then she’s gone not a moment later.” Ian grinned. “So, did you call me over and have me trudge through the cold just to keep you company in your massive house?” Ian inquired, changing the subject.

Mickey mirrored Ian’s grin, standing to his feet. “C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

Ian followed Mickey up both flights of stairs and into the blonde’s room. “Uh, I think I’ve been here before, Mick. Unless there’s a grand tour you wanted to give me.”

Mickey laughed. “Nah, man.” He walked over to his closet and opened the door, knowing exactly what he was going for. He stood on his toes, reaching as far as he could with his right hand on the top shelf. He felt around before he found the edge of the bow.

“Need some help, there?” Ian asked with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Mickey heaved, finally grasping the box. It used to feel heavy when he was younger, but his arms and hands got used to the feel though he didn’t go through it often. He motioned to the bed where he sat himself and the box. Ian followed, sitting on the other side in front of Mickey. “This is the box I’d mentioned before.” He opened the worn lid, showing its contents of dilapidated Polaroid pictures, brass knuckles, bullet shells, a shiv, a couple pocket sized passports, and other various weapons-all not from this time period. “My mother’s stuff.”

Ian’s eyes bugged out, seeing all of the weaponry and proof of a time before him and his family, a time where the thing he wanted most had been in reach for someone. He picked up one of the passports; he didn’t have one of those. It all felt so real, and as he opened it, he was amazed by how much he didn’t understand of what was on it, but knowing that it meant that his mother went places. He could identify one country. “Your mom was stationed in Spain?” Ian asked with disbelief coated in his words.

Mickey nodded, smiling at a sudden memory. “I remember she told us that’s where she learned Spanish. She didn’t keep up with it. The only thing she remembered was _cerveza fria_ \- that mean’s ‘cold beer’.”

Ian couldn’t imagine- would he get to go to these places if he joined? But he wasn’t in the ROTC. How was he supposed to get into WestPoint? So many things have changed; he didn’t want to think about them. “Didn’t you say your mom taught you some techniques?”

Mickey shrugged. “Basic defensive moves.”

Ian got an idea. He hopped off the bed. “Show me.” His smile was threateningly dangerous and Mickey could almost see Ian’s wheels turning.

As soon as Mickey was planted on his two feet, Ian swung, testing out Mickey’s reflexes and Mickey didn’t disappoint, blocking Ian’s hook with his forearm set in a sturdy hold. He tried to go for that move that his brother’s liked to use, grabbing hold of Ian’s biceps and throwing him to the ground and making quick moves to straddle his waist and hold him captive, but that failed almost miserably as Ian used whatever leg power Mickey had no idea Ian had and flung Mickey off, resulting in him rolling away before he regained his standing position. He went in again with the same tactic, trying the same grip but with a firmer hold. Ian saw his attempt and dodged it, coming from behind and wrapping around Mickey’s just as he flung both of them to the ground and scampering quickly to grip the older boy’s waist tight with his knees and pinned his arms above his head.

They laid there, taking into account each other’s labored breathing. Huffing out a smile, Ian cooed, “Given up y-“ and was immediately cut off as Mickey took Ian’s lack grip to change their position, now straddling the red head with his arms pinned down.

“I could say the same thing,” Mickey breathed with a grin.

Ian bit his lip, squirming a bit under Mickey’s constraints. “Fuck you.”

“Or you could do that.” Mickey leaned, taking his hands away to cup Ian’s neck as his lips ghosted over Ian’s. Ian closed down hard, bring his hands to Mickey’s hips is in sudden (not that sudden; the sight of Mickey straddling him was building up to this) desperation for the older boy to be closer. Mickey allowed, grinding down and appreciating the growing stiffness under his own. With a few more thrusts and random bucks from Ian, clothes seemed like an obstacle.

Mickey pulled them up until Ian sat up, wanting to get rid of the fabric but not wanting to take his lips of Mickey. When Mickey’s lips began to wander down his jaw, biting so often down his neck, Ian huffed a laugh. Words were becoming hard to form the lower Mickey’s mouth went. “Right here?” Ian panted.

“What?” Mickey asked, biting down hard on Ian’s collar bone and making work of a hickey there.

“There’s…there’s a very able bed…right…there.”

Mickey pulled off then, remembering they were on the floor, and flew up, tugging on his shirt until that was gone. He put the lid back on the box, and slid it over to the open closet door, not feeling up for trying to put it back up. He’d do it later-eventually.

When he turned back, Ian was right behind, shirt off, and lips on his, pushing Mickey back onto his bed and crawling to settle in the room Mickey had provided between his legs. Ian’s fingers started at his neck, the pads feather light as the made a burning trail down Mickey’s torso. Ian smiled at how he’d clench wherever his fingers would touch. His fingers found its way to Mickey’s groin, and he reveled at the moan Mickey made as Ian cupped his hardening member. Yeah, shirts weren’t gonna cut it. Everything had to come off.

Ian tugged at the waistband until Mickey was completely naked, and he marveled at his body while Mickey tried to make work of Ian’s jeans.

“You could help me, fucktard,” Mickey growled after he’d gotten the annoying clothing unzipped.

Ian shuffled and kicked off his jeans and boxers, then slid back into position to feel the heavenly friction of their dicks rubbing against each other.

They shared a groan before Mickey pulled Ian back in for a kiss, using his thighs to hold Ian there, but that didn’t stop Ian from thrusting and holy fuck if that wasn’t the best feeling ever.

Ian groaned, backing off a bit with a pained expression. “Oh, God.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Mickey asked as he arched into Ian, wanting to feel the warmth and hardness of Ian’s body.

“You.”

“Me? What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“How far have you actually gone, Mick?” Ian took into account Mickey’s history. If his calculations weren’t correct, Mickey should still be a virgin.

“I’m not a fuckin’ _virgin_ if that’s what you mean,” Mickey spat out, now fueled with some anger to confuse his body. Because technically, he wasn’t a virgin. He’d had sex before…but it was with a girl. And he’d done it in hopes of seeing if maybe he’d just been confused before. Or maybe he liked both. After the blowjob and the actual sex, it was the clearest thing ever: Mickey was gay.

“I just don’t want this to be painful for you, you know…”

Mickey looked down at Ian, noting its size and if Ian ever thought he’d be able to get through _that_ without experiencing _some_ type of pain, the kid had another thing coming. But he rolled his eyes. “Do you seriously think I’ve never stuck anything up my ass to get off? I got fingers. I got…” he trailed off, wondering if mentioning he’d gotten a vibrator seemed like too much…maybe even too…girly.

Ian looked down, his eyes still blown with lust but clouded over with concern. “You sure?”

Mickey puffed, annoyed by how much he really didn’t want to be talking right now. He stretched from where laid and dug blindly through his nightstand drawer, producing a tube of lubricant. Keeping his eyes on the younger boy, he handed it off to Ian before dragging the boy back down for a long, deep kiss.

That was probably the best way Mickey could tell Ian was ready.

Mickey was lost in the kiss, lost in Ian’s lips. And he focused on every kiss that led down his chest, gasping when he licked on a nipple till it was tight. And somewhere beyond his haze, he noticed his blood rushing under his skin, burning up with the windows cold from the air outside. He hadn’t noticed when one finger entered him, going in as far as it could. Even if Mickey didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t help but moan because it somehow felt so much better when it was Ian’s finger. His head fell back, focusing on the one finger steadily sliding in out.

“Oooh, fuck,” he breathed as he was breached with Ian’s middle finger, hitting a place in him his index finger couldn’t reach.

Ian watched it all, going back and forth from watching his fingers open up Mickey’s snug fit to watching his reaction, his eyebrows furrowing and his teeth biting down on his lip to keep his breathing more quiet. Ian used his left hand to grab hold of Mickey’s now erect cock, stroking down hard. A groan emitted from his own chest as Mickey clenched down on his fingers and thrust into his hand, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the slit, using the precum building there to make the strokes slicker. He curved his fingers inside, hitting the jackpot as Mickey jumped with a gasp. 

“ _Holy fucking shit_!” Mickey groaned, squirming under Ian’s intense preparations. He clenched his eyes shut as Ian aimed for his prostate a few more times, trying to slow down the sudden intensifying need to cum. “Get in me, Firecrotch,” he hissed.

Ian grinned. “But you’re still tight,” Ian said as he entered a third finger and met Mickey’s moan with his own as Mickey reinforced his statement as Mickey clenched down yet again.

All three fingers were still aimed at his prostate, and though they were slow to meet the bundle of nerves each time, that only helped to bring Mickey closer to the edge and- fuck- he was _not_ about to go over the edge without Ian fuckin Gallagher.

Opening his eyes to meet Ian’s, he spoke through clenched teeth, “I’ll fucking survive, just get on me already!”

Ian wasn’t sure if he was giving into Mickey’s request for Mickey’s sake or his own, because his own neglected cock had been dripping profusely, imagining those three fingers as his own dick, sliding in and out of Mickey’s tight entrance. He pulled his fingers free and clenched Mickey’s base to stave off his orgasm, then slicked up his own very hard penis.

Mickey turned over on his own and spread his legs, anticipating the feel of Ian pushing into him until there was nothing left to give. He felt the head go in, his teeth clamped around his lip to keep in any noises he wanted to make at that moment. The pressure was immense and indescribable and Mickey fucking loved it. Ian had pushed in with a steady pace and left the last few inches to thrust in altogether, nearly knocking the breath out of Mickey.

Ian looked down, admiring the way they connected. “ _Shit_ ,” he hissed. Somehow they moaned at the same time though Mickey’s was more like a whine, but he’d never admit to that. After giving Mickey and himself some time to adjust (because at the rate this was already going, he would’ve blown any second) he rocked his hips back and forth.

Mickey shivered at the thick heat of Ian’s cock snugly fit inside and the pressure it created, but he couldn’t take the slow rock, and he was about to tell Ian to hurry the fuck up when Ian pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back in, thrusting the next yelp out of Mickey without his permission. Mickey thought he was going to start off with a brutally fast pace, but Ian was going slow, with hard thrusts- _holy fuck_ it was hard. Mickey tried to remember how thin the walls were, how he could already faintly hear the yelling couple next door. But with every deep thrust back in, every cork to Mickey’s tight hole, a gasp escaped, loud enough to mask the sound of whatever they were quarreling about.

Ian’s pace gradually increased, savoring each inch that Mickey’s hole swallowed and his body not being able to take his structured fucking. He’d blame Mickey for that. He’d blame Mickey for taking it nicely, for moaning like that, and for pushing back whenever he’d thrust forward.

Ian’s hands started to slide  his back and he smirked at how sensitive Mickey was to his touch. Gripping hold of Mickey’s shoulders, that’s when his mind failed him and his body went on its merry way, pulling Mickey back hard as his pace increased to a deafening speed.

Mickey’s arms gave out and he to his elbows, yelling profanities into his covers as he got the breath knocked out of him repeatedly. But even with the covers as a barrier, they were still pretty audible. And he wasn’t worried about his neighbors-what fucking neighbors. He rested his forehead on his forearm, on his way to reach for his neglected cock when Ian shifted and hit the _right fucking spot_ and he lurched forward a bit against Ian’s iron tight hold on his hips. “Oh, _fuck_ , _Jesus_ , Ian shit shit _shit_!” he exclaimed breathlessly as his vision went white.

Ian gave a breathy laugh and grunted as he made sure to slam into that bundle every single time, appreciating what hitting Mickey’s prostate made him do, not just verbally.

Ian groaned loud, feeling his orgasm near every time his balls slapped Mickey’s ass. He leaned forward, molding their chests together as he reached around and started stroking Mickey’s leaking member at the same speed of his thrusts. In the midst of Ian finding Mickey’s golden spot, he’d forgotten to jerk himself, feeling he’d go over the edge by just that alone.

Building up some type of strength, Mickey reached for Ian’s neck, pulling his lips forward for a sloppy kiss as he reached maximum overload.

Mickey’s head hung low, his jaw slack as he tensed up at every spurt of cum that left him. “Oh, shit, _Ian_ ,” he groaned as Ian still slammed into his quickening sensitive prostate, soon closing in on his own orgasm.

“ _Fuck, Mick!”_ Ian bit into Mickey’s shoulder as he came, filling Mickey up. As soon as Mickey collapsed on his bed, Ian followed, taking a few minutes to catch his breath, still molded to Mickey in every way, though Mickey didn’t seem to mind.

Mickey pulled him in for another kiss and groaned as Ian pulled. He fell on his back on the other side of Mickey.

They were quiet, enjoying the silence and labored breathing coming down after that hard work of fucking. Once they both had calmed down, Mickey turned to look at Ian. “Holy _shit_ ,” he exclaimed, still not able to think of actual words.

“Yeah,” Ian agreed, still in the same predicament.

Replaying the last few minutes in his head, he felt his face completely relax. “Holy shit,” he repeated, more in awe this time.

“Sorry, were you saving your virginity for something important?” Ian glanced at Mickey and laughed.

“I told you I wasn’t a virgin.” Mickey  scooted closer and rolled over to rest on his side.

Ian snorted. “Really, ‘cause it sure felt like-“

“Fuck off,” Mickey interrupted, kicking Ian in the leg.

They both fell silent when the fighting couple ascended in volume. “You think they heard us?” Ian asked with indifference, not really caring who heard them.

Mickey shrugged. “Man, I wish I had cigarettes on me. A smoke would be _really_ good right now.”

“I have some in my coat pocket.”

Mickey turned his head. “You mean the coat that’s all the way downstairs?”

Ian’s eyes ran over Mickey’s body, mesmerized by the sweat and cum that glistened on his abs, the muscles in his legs- he had really nice legs- and the way his neck was splotchy red from pumping blood. He’d always found the blonde boy to be something of a work of art, but seeing him in this light, his hips bruised from his fingers and his lips swollen from constant and biting, it was like seeing a different form of beauty within the same thing.

“Fuck are you starin’ at?” Mickey sniped, his words holding no venom at all.

“You’re kinda really hot, Mick.”

Mickey could feel his cheeks burn at the compliment, the same fluttery feeling wanting him to grin like an idiot. He kept it off his face with a bite of his inner cheek. He rolled over, straddling the red head staring into his eyes, fascinated by the change in color solely based on his change in mood. They were brighter now. He bent, licking his way up from the purple bruise that was forming on his color bone- drinking in the shudders that Ian gave- until his tongue met Ian’s and they danced together, swirling around each other with an intense passion, as if they’d hit the rewind button to about 12 minutes ago.

“You’re not lookin’ too bad yourself,” Mickey said back between kisses. He tugged on Ian’s bottom before asking, “You ready to go again, or you, uh, need some time, Firecrotch?”

And just like that, Ian’s eyes were dark again.

 -------------

They’d fallen asleep after their fourth round without knowing. And Ian wouldn’t have heard it since he wasn’t accustomed to the ways of the Milkovich townhouse, but Mickey heard it. It was the distinct slam of a screen door. He jumped up, not caring if it was Mandy or Terry. He got dressed quickly, throwing on his tank and sweats. “Gallagher,” he hissed loudly, keeping an ear on whatever was happening outside the door.

Ian stirred before he met Mickey’s urgent eyes and quickly threw off the covers and stepped into his boxers and jeans and his gray shirt and sweater. He heard it then, the thumping of feet on stairs, though it was light.

“Mickey?” Mandy called out, sounding to be on the second level, from Mickey’s hearing point. He quickly opened his doors to meet Mandy there, in the kitchen. She had three shopping bags with her and a disoriented look.

Mandy looked him over. “Why the fuck are you still in your pajamas? Dad’s gonna be home any minute you can’t be caught being lazy all day.”

Mandy gave a relieved laugh. Or maybe he was laughing because he hadn’t been doing _nothing_ all day. “Did you have fun?”

She beamed at the change of topic. “Omgosh, Forever XXI was having a _sale_! And I found some really cute head gear from Claire’s.” She pulled out a small Claire’s bag from the Forever XXI bag. She sat both down. “I also went to Hot Topic and Spencer’s and-“

“Why the hell were you in Spencer’s?” Mickey asked, a little bit worked up but still curious as to know what his little sister could want out of there.

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Oh please,” she dismissed. She brought out a paper bag and handed it over to Mickey. “I got you a _churro._ You’re welcome.”

Ian came down then, looking well groomed as if no one had had their fingers through his hair and no one’s been sucking on his skin like it was best thing ever. “Hey, Mands!” He greeted, giving her a hug.

“Hey, Ian…” she got that disoriented look again. “What are you doing here?”

Before Mickey could intercept, Ian answered. “Mickey wanted to show me your mother’s army memorabilia.”

Mandy stepped back and looked between both of them. Mickey could hear his heart thudding against his chest.

“That sounds really boring,” she ended. “But hey, since you’re here,” she picked up her bags and grabbed his hand, “you can watch me try on all this cool stuff I bought.”

“The highlight of my day,” Ian cheered mockingly. “Or we can just stay here in the kitchen so we can both see what amazing stuff you got.”

“Mickey doesn’t care about this kinda stuff.” She glanced at him and growled. “Ugh, if I knew you were here, I would have gotten you a _churro_.”

Mickey shrugged, circling the counter until he was able to lean forward and still them. “He can have some of mine,” Mickey offered, pulling the long sugary bread tear out of the bag. He’s never seen one this long and it was more of a sugary mess.

Ian walked down, standing next to Mickey and mimicking his stance of leaning forward. He waved Mandy away, motioning for her to go up so he could see her first item.

Mickey broke the pastry in half, handing one half over with a satisfied grin on his face. He watched Ian take it, and the moment it was in his hand, he knew it’d been a mistake. The younger boy had that dangerous glint again. Ian licked up the side slowly to catch some of the sugar before he wrapped his mouth around the top bite down and Mickey could see the sugar that moved thanks to Ian’s lip and how they clung to them Ian pulled away. He ran his tongue over his lips slowly to make sure he caught all the sweet substance off his lips. With a shaky breath, Mickey shook his head and looked away, hearing Ian chuckle by his side.

Mandy came down the stairs with bare feet to keep the focus on her leather skinny jeans and purple sparkly tank. Mickey straightened, examining the outfit. The pants hugged to her growing curves; it was most definitely tighter than anything she owned. “No fucking way,” he sneered.

Mandy’s lips turned up as Mickey made his way over to her. Before either could continue or even begin their argument on the choice of clothing, they heard the hiss of the screen door opening and the slam of it closing. Mandy ran upstairs, already knowing Mickey was one thing, but having her dad in that outfit was completely unacceptable.

Mickey walked back to Ian’s side and continued eating his dessert as they heard Terry walking up the stairs. He looked down and cursed himself. He hadn’t changed. He rolled his eyes, knowing he was gonna get hell for being in his pajamas all day (too bad he couldn’t admit to not being in them all day).

“Go get my bags out the car.” The first thing his dad says to him. Terry finally looks to his son and sees the red head next to him, busy chewing on a _churro_. He drops it suddenly and wipes his hand of the crumbs as much as he can before he’s following Mickey.

Ian sees Terry watch him with ice blue eyes that are on a set mode of cold consistently. “Hello, sir. I’m Ian.” He holds out his hand and gives it a firm shake when Terry takes it. He’s curious of this ginger, but he seems fitting enough. So he shrugs it off as he stands at the foot of the stairs.

Ian pauses at the car, a silver Hyundai, obviously really expensive. “You don’t have to do this,” Mickey mumbles to Ian. “You shouldn’t have to. You’re our guest, for fuck’s sake.”

Ian pulls out one of the larger bags. “If this puts me in good standing with him, then whatever.”

Mickey snorts. “His own children aren’t in good standing with him, man.”

Once they lugged in the bags from his car, they walked up the stairs where they saw Mandy moving around the kitchen in quick movements. Mickey  knows it’s because Terry doesn’t like moving slow- it wastes time.

“Thank you, boys,” Terry graces with a harsh voice; it’s confusing to Ian because there’s no clear way to tell if he’s upset or that’s his usual tone. And that’s coming from a guy that grew up with a sister that looks like she’s judging you before she even truly notices you.

“Ian,” Terry acknowledges to the taller boy close to Mickey’s side. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” He looked to Ian with those eyes and he could feel a tingle shoot through his spine. His eyes weren’t like his children. Ian deduced the icy, reflective disposition was its normal state, and he couldn’t imagine how neither Mandy nor Mickey could live with that. But he knew he could handle it.

“Yes, sir,” Ian answered.

Terry howled a laugh that had Mickey inch back, but it didn’t seem to be because of fear, more like he just _really_ didn’t want to be around him. “I like you, so far, Ian…?”

“Gallagher,” added when he caught on what Terry was asking for.

Mickey caught the face Terry made once he heard Ian’s last name. It was always so subtle, which is why it irked him so much. It was a look that was open, like he was ready to take in every piece of information to try-no “ _accomplish”_ \- at figuring out the person to the T. “Irish,” Terry mumbled off, starting his long list of information he’d get off Ian before the night is over.

Terry looked to his son and rolled his eyes with a smile, as if he couldn’t expect much from the youngest Milkovich boy. “What did I tell you about staying in your house clothes all day?”

Mickey took a step forward and shrugged. “I wasn’t in my house clothes all day, dad,” Mickey returned with a small pleased smile. “But, gosh, when I get home I don’t wanna be in my jeans. You want me to put my clothes back on?” He knew he was walking on a fine line. Terry wouldn’t say anything now, but afterwards…

But either Terry hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. “Whatever. You can help your sister with dinner. I’m gonna go talk to Meryl and John for a bit and catch up on business.”

Mickey froze then, hoping the true terror that was coursing through his veins wasn’t showing in his expression.

Mickey followed his dad with his eyes as he walked down the stairs and out the door, feeling his heart drop with the hiss as it opened and the slam as it closed. He met Ian’s eyes and saw the question in them. _What’s wrong?_

“The couple fighting next door,” Mickey whispered.

Ian’s eyes widened, his blood freezing in its path.

“Fuck,” they both whispered.


	11. Not Backing Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He looked to Ian, still standing behind Mickey, but whatever he was feeling before shifted. His features were set with determination, eyes zeroed in on a target. And somehow, that look calmed Mickey down a bit. Ian Gallagher was a soldier in the making, and he wasn’t about to back down from whatever this was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy! I tried to answer some of the questions that people asked in the comments. But it may seem ambiguous still...sorry for that

“Way to go, dumbass,” Mandy hissed as soon as she was sure her dad was gone.

Mickey turned, his face scrunched in confusion and something else. “What?”

Mandy nodded to Ian, who stood right behind Mickey with a stone cold expression and his arms folded tightly. “This is exactly what we were afraid of.”

Mickey wasn’t afraid of a lot of things. When he was younger, just a little child, he’d never been scared of the stories his mother and older brothers would tell. He couldn’t possibly believe in the boogie man or ghosts or anything of the supernatural. No, the things he were afraid of were real. One of those being the likelihood of his father finding out- but don’t get it wrong. He couldn’t care less what his father thought. Ever since his mom died, Mickey could feel himself slowly becoming more and more rebellious in the mind, refusing to listen to whatever it was his father said. The old man was outdated and refusing to change. And his mom wasn’t around to balance out the steady insanity that was Terry Milkovich. The thing about his father that scared Mickey was the amount of power he had. “If there’s anything you must remember,” his dad would tell them, “remember the Golden Rule: He who has the gold, rules.”

And Mickey knew- they all knew- that Terry was the one with the gold, so whatever he said goes. So that’s what Mickey was scared of- being cut off. But the thing was that there were so many sentences that could mess everything up. “I’m gay” would surely be one of those. For a man who could be very ambiguous, he made it clear that he wasn’t going to support anyone who didn’t go along with his program.

Mickey rubbed at his lips, thinking of some way how everything could go fine. “He doesn’t know anything, yet,” Mickey said with forced conviction. He looked to Ian, still standing behind Mickey, but whatever he was feeling before shifted. His features were set with determination, eyes zeroed in on a target. And somehow, that look calmed Mickey down a bit. Ian Gallagher was a soldier in the making, and he wasn’t about to back down from whatever this was. “You need some help, Mands?” Ian asked, not acknowledging Mickey as he passed.

 

Terry’s booming laugh filled the dining room and Ian could tell hearing that sound was something that didn’t happen often. “You guys haven’t brought anyone over since your mom passed,” Terry observes, taking his normal position at the table.

Mandy sighed, patting the seat next to her so Ian knew to sit there. “And how would you know that, dad?”

His eyebrows raised in amusement. “Have you been sneaking people over?” he laughed out.

“Well, no…”

Terry shook his head, still chuckling a bit. “Have you guys done your homework and everything? Don’t want you guys up all night still doing it.”

Mandy and Mickey looked to each other with an immense amount of confusion. Who the fuck was this man?

“Yeah,” they said simultaneously.

Ian could tell from their expressions that something wasn’t right about things, and that made it seem all the more terrifying. But he wasn’t going to run. No matter what the question was, he’d be ready to answer.

“So, Ian,” Terry started as if he’d been reading the young boys mind. “What brings you here? I know Mandy can be really…persuasive if she wants to. Always dragging her friends to do things with her.”

Ian could feel Mandy clench beside him, and the bite taken at her had somehow ricocheted, because that hurt like hell. “Uh, actually, I was here for Mickey. He’s tutoring me in Geometry.”

Terry looked to his son with a doubtful look. “Really? He was bad at Geometry. Couldn’t seem to get a hold on the simplicity of shapes.”

“Well my grades have gone up,” Ian interceded with force. When Terry turned to look him in the eyes, he knew he’d heard the protective nature in Ian’s words. But Ian still couldn’t back down. “Each week, my grades gone up. I finally got a B in that class.”

Things got quiet as everyone waited for what Terry would say next. “It’s good that you have such an interest in keeping your grades up.” He paused. “What elementary school are you coming from? I’m guessing you didn’t go to school with them if I’m just now meeting you.”

Ian knew he wouldn’t know his school. It was some Chicago Public travesty of a school that did nothing to prepare him for anything but to stay exactly where he was. But from where he sat now, it was amusing that the system had lost. He cleared his throat. “Burroughs’s Elementary.”

True to Ian’s prediction, Terry had never heard of the school. “Where’s that located? Up north? I spend a lot of my time visiting places up north and it sounds familiar.”

Ian smiled genuinely at the thought that maybe he hadn’t looked like the charity case he thought himself to be. Despite Mickey’s guarded attitude, he shot Ian a knowing smile as if to tell Ian, _told you._ Because it really was an interesting trait how Ian Gallagher could fit in wherever he went. But here came the moment the three teens were somehow hoping they wouldn’t have to get to. But for any of them to think that Ian could just step into the house of Terry Milkovich and not be under the clearest, closest microscopic investigation that was Terry, it was wishful thinking. As Ian answered with “Canaryville,” they all waited to see how Terry would react.

Mickey never knew how anyone else in their family felt about their dad’s façade; it wasn’t like the Milkovich kids just sat around talking about him-it was the opposite: try not to bring him up as much as possible. But Terry had a clear act right now, an act that made him seem actually interested. Mickey never thought the look fit his father well because he wasn’t much for being excited about anything, really. So when Mickey watched Terry’s eyes bug out a bit in “pure” interest and shock, Mickey had to fight back an eye roll that would permanently damage him.

“Really!” Terry exclaimed in a scratchy voice. “Is that where you reside?” Once he saw Ian nod, he turned to give a knowing look at Mandy. Mickey knew what it meant. Terry had made it his job to make sure that Mandy knew she’d probably attract south side boys, or “shag-nasties”- as Terry had named them. But to her defense, as Terry would explain, they’re attracted to things that they can bring down easily. And they never could tell if that was yet another blow to his only daughter or to volatize these dangerous, low down boys of the area in which Ian grew up and currently lived in.  

Ian wasn’t fazed mainly because he was unsure if any emotion Terry had been feeling tonight was real or not. “Yeah, I live there with my family; have lived there all my life.”

Terry laughed, somehow exhilarated at this knowledge. “And you’re going to Jones College Prep, a magnet high school downtown.” It wasn’t a question, but Ian responded anyways.

“My grades were good. And my activities outside of class must have gotten the school’s attention as well.”

“And what type of activities would those be?”

“I started with ROTC during the summer and getting acclimated to the army training before school; by the time I transferred to Jones, I was on my way to becoming sergeant.” He paused, assessing the slight shift in Terry’s expression. Whatever mocking he’d been keeping up that night changed at the mention of army training.

“My wife was a soldier in the army before we met.”

“We already told him that,” Mickey spoke. “I showed him the box and everything.”

“Well, that was considerate of you, now wasn’t it?” Terry’s mocking tone came back just that quick. And Mickey didn’t even fight back his eye roll this time.

It was quiet again as they continued with eating after a while, when Terry was working on the last of his food, he shrugged and picked his head up. “So, Ian.” Once Ian met his eyes, he continued. “Let’s just put this out there.”

Ian tried to keep his eyes on the icy blue ones that had called to him rather than glancing over at the stone, protective ones that were Mickey’s. Mickey kept his head down, quietly praying to whatever god it was that he was supposed to pray to make sure that he wasn’t dragged out of the closet by his neighbors and, yeah he had to admit, himself.

“I don’t know much about you,” and he paused to snort because he obviously felt that he knew Ian Gallagher, “but I’m just wondering if maybe you planned on dating my daughter.”

Mickey snapped his head up at the same time that Mandy had, but for different reasons. Mandy had been surprised that Terry hadn’t figured out from his presence that Ian wasn’t gay. Mickey was surprised that Terry hadn’t found out from their neighbors that Ian _and Mickey_ weren’t gay. And just like that, probably the thickest cloud of tension left the room. All three kids laughed, leaving Terry in a state of confusion, patiently waiting for Ian’s answer.

But Mandy didn’t give Ian a chance to answer. “Dad, we don’t like each other. We’re just friends. Best friends, actually.” Mandy nudged him with her shoulder and he nudged back at the comforting gesture.

Terry kept his eyes on the smiling Gallagher, trying to find some hint of regret or pain at Mandy’s words. Ian hoped, Mandy hoped, and Mickey hoped that all Terry saw was the looked of purely satisfied best friend.

There was a part of Mickey that wondered if Terry had been under the microscope as he focused his own on Ian- only by the solemn face he gave the Mandy and Ian pair. “Well, that’s good. Not tryin’ to have her date anyone for probably the next 20 years.”

“I get it. My brother and I are protective over our little sister, Debbie.” Ian stopped himself, wanting to explain the ways of the south side, but he was sure Terry would know all too well about the legendary acts that take place in their neighborhoods. He looked at Mandy. “Dinner was great, Mands. I didn’t know you could cook.”

Terry turned with a smile of pride, as if Mandy’s successful dinner was his doing. “She had to learn if she ever wants to get shit done in the future. And besides, after her mother died, someone had to pick up on the chores.”

Mickey stood up abruptly, taking his plate, Ian’s plate, and awkwardly handling Mandy’s plate as he went towards the kitchen. Thrice had it been that his dad mentioned their mother, as if this nostalgic thing happened often. There were a lot of things that weren’t ok with the Milkovich family. Bringing up the dim light of their dark habitat was by far the one thing that was most definitely not ok.

Terry shrugged like he’d been doing for months now. Maybe Terry finally caught on to his son’s fire fueled by every word he spoke. And maybe he didn’t give a fuck about his son anymore. Mickey wasn’t sure. “So, how are you getting home then?” Terry asked Ian. He checked his watch before Ian could answer. “It’s only 8:30. Did you make plans with your parents to pick you…up?” Terry hadn’t meant to falter, and Mickey was glad he couldn’t see the glare (but he sure wished he could feel the sharp blades of each dagger the glare emitted). “Or maybe the train?”

Ian was speechless momentarily, unbelieving that the guy was kicking him out. Because, sure, maybe he didn’t know that Ian was gay, but he was still a pure bred south side piece of trash, as far as Terry was concerned. The only good thing was that Ian wasn’t trying to get into Mandy’s underwear and fuck up her life. Ian broke out of the momentary shock. “Um, I guess train. I should be fine. It won’t be that long of a walk from my stop.”

Mickey broke out of his stare when his dad stood up with his plate. He dropped the plates in the sink with a loud clang and made a hurry up the stairs into his room, leaving Mandy and Ian confused.

He came back down the stairs with street clothes on: black hoodie and dark washed jeans. “I’m gonna walk him to the train,” he said openly, leaving anyone that was listening to hear him.

“Can I come?” Mandy asked, already dragging Ian with her to follow Mickey down the stairs.

Ian thought about telling Terry good bye, but he knew that probably wouldn’t be best. They rushed outside after they’d gotten their coats and shoes on.

“Ok,” Mickey started as he led the way out of the gate. “There’s a frozen yogurt shop still open; you guys up for it?”

Mandy moaned. “I left my wallet upstairs.”

Mickey shook his head and waved his sister off. “It’s fine, Mands. I can give you money. That’s the best way to repay you for that churro that I didn’t even get to finish,” he stared her down. “Thanks for finishin’ it for me, by the way.”

Mandy shrugged as she linked her arm with Ian’s. “I bought it nitwit. And I was upset. I thought dad was gonna be pissed.”

Ian used his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Uh, it kinda seemed like he was pissed. I mean, as soon as I told him where I’m from.”

Mandy moaned again with more edge. “He would have loved you if he never knew that. The old man is so fucking outdated. He still thinks the neighborhood you grow up in still writes out your fuckin’ future.”

Mickey smiled at his sister; she’d been speaking out on everything he was thinking an hour ago.

“But I’m glad he didn’t find out…you know,” Mandy uttered, in a voice that Mickey wasn’t supposed to hear. Or maybe she _meant_ it to sound like he wasn’t supposed to hear. Mickey knew Mandy felt a type of way finding out that Mickey had been swooping up on her best friend. And they never actually brought up the topic of their mutual person of interest and his sexual preference for guys. And here Mandy thought she had the upper hand. And, yes, Mickey should have just let her have her one thing because after she’d find out about him and Ian, she’s gonna feel hurt, probably more hurt than when Ian rejected her, before she knew that it was really her brother that he was attracted to. But Mickey couldn’t get pass that. All he could see was that Mandy was linked to Ian in a way that Mickey longed for (not necessarily arm in arm, but he wouldn’t kill for holding hands).

With an exasperated sigh, Mickey said, “I know Ian’s gay.”

“ _What_?” she exclaimed, clear pain in the one word. “You told him? After it being so fucking impossible to tell _me_?”

“He played me, dude,” Ian explained. “It was the sneakiest shit I’ve ever seen, and you haven’t even met my family, holy shit.”

“Mickey, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mandy turned on Mickey quickly. But he could hear the venom in her voice leave.

Mickey laughed, bracing himself for an onslaught of small fists on his coated back. Sure enough, they came. “It was kinda conniving for me to do it, but…” he trailed off as he saw Ian watch them fight playfully. He could see the look in Ian’s eyes that he understood this, he recognized this type of relationship, and it was almost a sign of conformation for both Ian and Mickey that things were going to work out some way, somehow.

They walked closer to the main streets as they saw the shop that Mickey had been talking about. Once they were inside, Mickey handed Mandy five dollars from his wallet that had been in his jeans’ pocket. They got in line, preparing their soft-served treat. And Ian hadn’t thought much of it until he saw a reoccurring theme with Mickey’s yogurt creation: chocolate frozen yogurt, topped with Snickers, brownie, and Oreo bites, a few strawberries, finishing with a chocolate syrup drizzle. Ian chuckled. “You got a thing for chocolate, huh?”

Mickey shrugged. “I just like sweet, you know?” He explained, turning back to eye Ian suggestively.

It was Mickey’s turn to pay, and he placed his yogurt on the scale, then snatched Ian’s fruit and hazelnut blend yogurt creation and put it on the scale along his. It was a small action that happened so quickly, Ian hadn’t caught on until the girl at the register said the total had been ten dollars even. By instinct, Ian went for his wallet before Mickey could hand over a ten dollar note.

After he paid, he handed over Ian’s yogurt. “Mick, what the hell was that?”

“Yogurt?” Mickey scoffed. He bit his bottom lip, kind of hoping Ian wouldn’t read too much into the small action; but he’d known Ian enough to know that Ian noticed, and he was going to remember this.

Mandy was sitting at a table by the window. Once Ian took his position next to Mandy and Mickey sat across from him, their knees knocking with each other, Mandy talked. “Why the hell are we eating frozen yogurt in December?”

Mickey took the first scoop of his masterpiece and closed his mouth around it slowly in deliberately. “Why the hell is it not snowing in December? Shut up and eat.”

Ian and Mandy did so almost obediently, making small talk about events that hadn’t just occurred minutes earlier or hours prior. When they were finished, chilled from the yogurt, they made their way to the train station, walking amongst Roosevelt, a street usually busy during the day, but calmer now because of the late hour. Before Ian made his way up the stairs, he promised Mandy he would bring her over to his house one day, Mandy not being aware that Mickey has been over there a few times.

They began to walk back home silently. “I wonder why dad thought Ian and I were dating,” Mandy stated out loud, though her voice wavered as if she was talking more to herself.

Mickey shrugged. “Maybe because he’s a guy and you’re a girl,” he retorted as if it was a question. “Besides, he thought you and Gallagher were _planning_ on dating, like you guys just wanted his permission or some shit.”

Mandy shrugged, letting the topic that involved her dad go. “I wonder what it’s like at his house.”

“You wonder too much.”

“I met his brother, you know? Lip? Ugh, he’s so cute! Seriously their parents were doing something right if they made those two. Fiona must be gorgeous.”

Mickey chuckled but stopped himself from responding with saying, Yeah she is, because that wouldn’t be the best way for his sister to find out anything-

Mickey grabbed hold of Mandy’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. She turned to look at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Mickey’s heart raced, staring into eyes unlike his mother’s yet completely the same. Their mother’s eyes were hazel, a pretty color that opened her eyes up for interpretation, to be accepting of any emotion as much as she was accepting herself. Mickey could see it in the concern in her face that Mandy had their mother’s acceptance. He had a moment with his sister as well as his mother, harsh cool wind pushing past them both.

This was the perfect moment in so many ways Mickey wasn’t expecting. This was the moment that he’d been waiting for. “Mandy, I’m gay.”

And it was three words, passed amongst the stirring wind produced by their proximity to the lake. But somehow the words were stronger, seeping into the consciousness of his little sister, watching her eyes take in the words his mouth had formed, watching something release from her as he released probably the deepest secret he had. And he wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen. Did he want words or did he just want an embrace.

The latter turned out to be the better option. As Mandy brought him in for the biggest hug he could imagine, Mickey felt a sigh so massively relieving, he almost wondered if he’d actually just said the words. He hugged back, feeling her accepting something the man they lived with would never understand. And that’s why this was different from Ian telling Mandy he was gay. She wasn’t sure on what he had to contend with when he got home, but she knew exactly what Mickey would go home, where they were heading right now. And Mickey didn’t have to indicate to Mandy that she had to keep this a secret.

And she knew when to let go, but she didn’t do that exactly. She slipped her arms into his, doing the same thing she had to Ian. For kids like the Milkovichs, a family who spent years perfecting the motto of “No Touching” and “Back the Fuck Up”, Mandy and Mickey knew how important touch was. And for Mandy, linking herself with the ones she loved showed her protection, even if it wasn’t much protection to give.

They walked through the front door like that, trying not to seem so… _emotional_ as their dad had made his comfort into the couch in front of the TV. “Where the hell did you guys go? I know it doesn’t take so long to walk someone to the fuckin’ station.” He turned to look at them then as they hung their coats up. “Unless you guys went somewhere else,” he accused.

“We went to get frozen yogurt,” Mickey answered, motioning for Mandy to go upstairs. But she stood her ground next to her brother with her arms folded.

“And didn’t think to bring me any?”

“’Cause you’re the pickiest and most indecisive person in the world; it would’ve taken you at least an hour to make up your mind on what you would want on it.” Mickey stated the words with a painstaking accuracy that was getting him riled up at the mere thought of having to actually experience that. “And then you would’ve criticized the way it tastes!”

“Maybe if you had a good enough sense of taste you wouldn’t go to shitty places, would you?”

Mickey nodded frantically, ready to be done with this conversation and it already started. Since when had he taken their mom’s place in these arguments? Of course he knew when…

“Ok, whatever. We have school tomorrow. We should probably get to bed.” This time, when Mickey shoved lightly at Mandy’s shoulder, she started forward towards the stairs.

“That’s fine,” Terry called back. “Run away from yet another discussion. Can’t hide from the inevitable.”

Mickey turned back on the stairs to see his dad’s face. What the fuck had he meant by that? Did he actually know? But when he turned back, the only thing his face read was the impending doom of “The time shall come” and it sent a chill down his spine. Maybe Terry didn’t know about Ian and Mickey or even just Mickey…but he’d find out, and Terry was promising that, if that was even possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a clear vision for this now, and the next chapter is gonna happen a few months into the future for the reasons of, I wanna get into things with season 2 looking Ian and because I want the weather to be exceptionally better for what I wanna write about...if that's weird...yeah, I know...


	12. In Only Four Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian looked forward into the orange sky. “Are you asking me out on a second date?”
> 
> Mickey scoffed. “When did we have our first?”
> 
> Ian lowered his head, allowing his eyes to look through his fluttering lashes. “Oh, please.”
> 
> Mickey rolled his eyes. No wonder Ian and Mandy were best friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry this took like 3 weeks to update. Some of the stuff that I wrote about in this chapter explains why I wasn't able to update. Busy bee, I guess. (Also set 4 months in the future to have things caught up with, like, now..."

“Next week is very important for our juniors as you all well may know!” Principle Grath exclaimed over the microphone to all the students in the gymnasium. “They’re taking the ACT!”

And if it was anything else, everyone would have been cheering; the junior class would be whooping and hollering because they had a whole week all about them. But it was deathly silent, the quiet aiding in the unfiltered sun that shone from the windows and its burning heat.

“Come on, guys,” she egged on, the playful tone note working well with her serious composure. “The juniors, you guys got this. And the rest of you should be showing some moral support.”

A random senior called out. “We know they’ll do fine!” And that’s when the applause came. Ian couldn’t fight a grin as Mandy and others went crazy around him. This is what he came from: chaos. But this was different than where he’d been more than 4 months ago. This was organized and temporary, unlike the consistent madness that was his old school, his old life.

After things simmered down, as everyone knew it would, she gave a simple task. “I know I usually do this with only the juniors, but I just want everyone to look around; try to imagine how things have changed for you and the people that impact you.”

Mickey had caught sight of Ian in an instant, and when he saw Ian staring back, he almost wanted to look away, but the small smile and blush on his cheeks eased Mickey. Had it really been 4 months? Had so much really changed? Mickey took a step back in the proverbial sense. Had he seriously watched Ian Gallagher grow over 4 months? Maybe it was the change in season. His head was a fiery red and cut short (which Mickey had liked in the beginning, but later found it difficult to grab onto in the midst of foreplay and near orgasm, last minute preparations to hold on). His freckles were still prominent, but only if you were close enough. And he’d gotten a bit taller, and if there was any speculation about the muscle Gallagher was packing under his clothes, it was surely going away.

Ian’s attention was disrupted by a big hug from Mandy and Mickey finally turned away, a tight smirk that wanted to blossom into a smile on his lips. Mandy hadn’t reacted the way he thought she would. Well, how was she supposed to react to hearing her brother say, “I had sex with Ian”? Whatever he thought, he wasn’t expecting her to size him up and nod as if there was any possibility that it wasn’t true. “Yeah, you did,” she concluded. His face turned up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t fucking ask a _question._ What the fuck you mean ‘yeah, you did’?” Mandy shrugged, looking away as if it was no big deal that the two guys she loved were banging like bunnies measly feet from where she slept. “I mean, neither of you are obvious, but it’s just one of those things where when you hear it, it’s not surprising.” Mandy lifted her head, letting sink in what she just said and contemplating on her words. “But then again, if anyone at school found out they’d be gaping because you two are just so…” she trailed off, seeing her brother’s eyebrows trying their best to reach his hairline. She shrugged again. “And it’s obvious if I were a dude we would’ve been hookin’ up long before you two met.” She gave her brother a comforting smile as he shoved her. Mickey had laughed the moment off, ignoring as best as possible the gnawing feeling inside that Mandy was absolutely right. But what did Mickey care? What the fuck did Mickey care if, under different circumstances, they would have never been…whatever they were. If the roles had been reversed, if Mickey was the one growing up on the south side, it’d be different.

After the assembly, Mickey waited for Ian and Mandy to meet him outside. Mandy looked a bit heartbroken, her bottom lip poked out into a theatrical pout. “It’s just a shame you can’t spend the night again,” Mickey heard her say as they got closer. “Maybe you could pretend to be there for Mickey and my dad won’t say anything,” she suggested, turning to Mickey.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Mands, please, he wouldn’t be _pretending_.” He gave Ian a wink before he started to walk off towards the station.

And in four months, the Milkovichs found that the Gallagher home standing near the end of a street the complete opposite of a safe haven was exactly that. Mickey had accompanied Mandy on her first expedition to Ian’s environment, and he couldn’t help but find the whole thing quite amusing. He figured Ian had told them beforehand that Mandy was unaware of Mickey’s previous visits, and welcomed both siblings in as if they were new. And then it became a regular thing- going over to the Gallagher house on Friday’s after school, roaming the streets of Canaryville with the redhead soldier in the making as their guardian of sorts. And it quickly became noticed that Ian’s neighborhood was actually pretty quiet (Ian told them that it only seemed that way because they never came around when the sun went down).  And Debbie had taken a real liking to Mandy, almost as much as Lip, but Lip wouldn’t admit to the fact that he would somehow ask if Mandy was coming over whenever Ian mentioned Mickey would just so he’d be able to hang around the house for the couple hours they were there.

                When they had gotten there, the house was pretty empty save from Carl, Debbie, and Lip. Ian guessed that Fiona and Jimmy were probably off at Kev and V’s with Liam or something of the sort. And it wasn’t long before Mandy had abandoned Ian and Mickey to follow Lip off somewhere, maybe the park or wherever it was Lip went to charm girls- not that he needed to, as Lip would say.

“It’s a nice day out,” Ian sighed as he opened up the back door and stepped onto the porch.

Mickey stood beside him, leaning against the railing. “It really is a shame you can’t just sleep over,” Mickey stated, looking over the railing. He smirked. “But then again I can’t even imagine trying to do anything with Mandy and my dad under the same roof as us.”

Ian shrugged. “It’d be a risk. Who doesn’t like taking risks?”  Ian was slow, making sure not to freak out the Milkovich as he leaned forward. With inches of space left between their lips, Mickey’s hand came up to his chest as he checked his surroundings.

“What if someone sees us?” Mickey asked in a harsh whisper tone.

Ian laughed. “It’s quiet around here.”

Yeah, it was too quiet- even for this time of the day. And Ian could tell from the look on Mickey’s face that nothing was going to change his mind, that if they were to kiss or anything, it would have to be in the confines of Ian’s room. Ian grabbed his wrist, dragging Mickey upstairs to his room and promptly closing the door.

Mickey hit the door with a grunt, unable to catch his breath due to having Ian’s lips on his in an instant. But Mickey gets into that way too quickly for Ian’s liking, and he pulls back, settling for teasing the older boy with his tongue; he can feel his heart race as Mickey’s tongue chases after Ian’s and smiles before falling back again to give into to Mickey’s desire. But his lips continue downwards, down Mickey’s jaw and down his throat.

“I guess this is gonna be for ol’ time’s sake,” Ian says against Mickey’s neck. “What with you and testing, and me and the college trip.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, annoyed that the feel of Ian against his neck was enticing him and almost pushing for more when his mind really didn’t want to be thinking about college. “Stop talking,” Mickey hissed as he shoved Ian back until he was practically thrown down on the bed. Mickey quickly climbed on top, straddling the red head and bringing their mouths together again. Once Ian’s hands found their way to Mickey’s hips, he gripped tightly and rolled them over, changing position so Ian was one top; his hands were bracketing Mickey’s face.

Ian brought one of his hands to cradle Mickey’s face as he surged down to deepen the kiss, and Mickey gave a quiet moan that went straight to Ian’s dick. His hand went from Mickey’s cheek, making a burning trail with his fingertips down his chest. Mickey could feel the goose bumps rise on his skin and the way his heart was thumping against his chest and he wasn’t exactly sure why. Because he was still clothed, so what the fuck?

Ian’s fingers came quickly to their destination and started undoing Mickey’s jeans while Mickey made work of Ian’s. His hands stuttered once Ian started palming at his dick over his boxers. He gave a breathy laugh once their eyes met and Ian was fully aware of what he was doing to the blond beneath him.

“Ian! Ian! Ian!” Carl called as he bound up the stairs.

“Oh, fuck.” It was hard to tell who actually exclaimed that since they were both fairly frustrated with their interruption. Neither was sure how far it’d go but they were willing to find out- always eager.

By the time Carl opened the door, Ian was sitting on top of his desk, waiting for the intrusion that was Carl Gallagher. “Fiona needs your help bringing in stuff.”

“Why can’t you just- never mind.” He stops himself, knowing it’d probably be quicker just to get it over with. “Wait here, Mick.”

Once Ian is down the stairs, Mickey expects the young one to leave, but he just stands there, staring at Mickey. He stares for such a long time that it makes Mickey squirm. Maybe Carl knows something. “You wanna play some videogames?” Carl asks innocently- or as innocently as a Gallagher can seem.

He thinks over it. The vibe was pretty much ruined, but that doesn’t mean they can’t get it back. He decides to follow Carl downstairs, watching Ian bring in bags and bags. Lip follows after and he sees Mandy standing outside on the porch, acting as a messenger of sorts: taking the bags from Ian and handing them off to Lip.

“We hit the jackpot!” Fiona says as she brings in the last of the groceries. “Thanks to Debbie’s couponing skills, I was able to stock up. About time, too.” She rests the bags down and Ian’s standing right behind her. She slaps at his arm. “Officer Gallagher over here is eating all the meat up.”

Mickey pipes up like it’s natural. “Puberty’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

Fiona laughs and nods. “Exactly. But even Lip didn’t eat this much.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ian walked over to where Mickey stood at the bottom of the stairs. He moves in close, and Mickey does a scan of the room to see if anyone notices. “We could go back up to my room and pick up where we left off?” Ian’s voice is low and suggestive, like his eyes.

Mickey shrugs, playing along. “I dunno, Firecrotch. You sure you didn’t work off your energy carrying all that shit in?”

“I think we both know how great my stamina is.”

“Kids,” Fiona calls out to Carl and Debbie. “Let’s go over to the park with Liam.”

And with that, Ian drags Mickey upstairs now that all hopes of being interrupted are gone.

* * *

 

 The sun was beginning to set when Ian and Mickey finally stepped out of his room. And once they were downstairs, it came another favorite part of being at the Gallagher house: the people. Mickey and Mandy ended up staying for dinner, somehow weaving into conversations as if this was all they’ve done their lives. Mickey wasn’t sure when it happened, but he found himself playing videogames with Ian on the couch, and Mandy informed them that they’d have to get home soon. Ian was running upstairs to throw on some clothes that he had left off minus his boxers and tank.

Lip crashed down next to Mickey like it was nothing. “So.”

“So?” Mickey asked, confused.

“You and Ian.”

“What about us?”

Lip shrugged, not wanting to spell it out for the older Milkovich. “You guys are getting pretty close.”

Something about those words made Mickey flinch. It wasn’t like he wasn’t aware that Lip knew he was gay or even that him and Ian had been having sex for the past couple of hours. But hearing someone besides himself or Ian mention it seemed…off.

Lip sensed his unease. “Relax, man. Half the people here know about you two.”

But the statement had done the opposite of appease Mickey. The fact that so many people all at once knew something that was only supposed to be between him and Ian was _not_ comforting.

But Lip continued his…speech or whatever. “And I don’t really get this whole ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ thing let alone love because it’s obviously some type of chemical shit.” He looked at Mickey with solemn. “But Ian doesn’t agree with that, not really. So if you ever hurt him, I’m gonna have to do any and everything necessary to hurt you back. He’s yet to be in an actual relationship- another statement he wouldn’t agree with, but whatever- and I’d hate for the first person he has one with be someone with a bad record…if you know what I mean.”

At this, Mickey almost nodded his head in agreement. Obviously he wouldn’t try to hurt Ian. But what the fuck was this thing about love? Boy friend and girlfriend? Where had this shit came from? He felt lost and confused and really in need of answers. Ian came bounding down the stairs, and he could feel that confused feeling get pushed aside as he smiled because this Ian had powers of calmness.

“Where’s Mandy? You guys ready to go?” Ian asked.

Mandy appeared from where she had been in the kitchen with Debbie.

“Wait, wait!” Debbie pleaded. “Let me just show you one more thing.”

Ian and Mickey almost laughed simultaneously while Ian declared, “We’ll wait outside.”

The air was cool and there was a slight breeze; it all smelled of a spring that was well overdue. “This weather isn’t gonna stick,” Mickey predicted.

“I guess not. Chicago’s so unpredictable.”

“That’s why we need to make the most of it,” Mickey began to say, not really sure if the thud of his heartbeat was from nerves or excitement. “We should go to Navy Pier tomorrow, you know, before we have to get down to business this week?” He heard his own voice pitch at the end and cleared his throat to mask the sound.

Ian looked forward into the orange sky. “Are you asking me out on a second date?”

Mickey scoffed. “When did we have our first?”

Ian lowered his head, allowing his eyes to look through his fluttering lashes. “Oh, please.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. No wonder Ian and Mandy were best friends.

But Ian caught something. “So it _is_ a date, then?”

His eyes were so hopeful, too radiant for Mickey to not look into. “Call it whatever you want, man. You wanna go or not?”

Ian found Mickey’s flustered composure amusing. “Sure,” he laughed out. “What time should I be down there?”

“I’m thinkin’ 6, so we can have a few hours of sun,” Mickey rambled, almost losing his nonchalant act.

Ian grinned and Mickey sighed, caving into the red head’s happiness. “Ok, it’s a date, then.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey snapped, annoyed mostly with how comfortable Ian was.

Ian chuckled as Mandy came outside. “Ready,” she announced and Ian did his civic duty as he walked them to the train station.

* * *

 

 “Aww!” Mandy cooed as she watched her brother fix himself in the mirror in the bathroom. He rolled his eyes again, not understanding how alike Gallagher and his sister they could possibly be. “My big brother’s first date.” Atleast she hadn’t referred to it as their second. She never knew about Mickey paying for Ian’s fro-yo only four months prior.

“It’s not a date!”

“Oh right,” Mandy played along. “You’re just going to get on some rides, share a funnel cake or something, walk by the lake as the sun sets.” She winked with a grin. “Definitely not a date…and who’s paying for all this…might I add?”

Mickey glared at her through the mirror. She nodded her head with understanding. “Right, you are…”

He was interrupted by his phone which vibrated on the metal shelf over the sink. He didn’t even have to check it to know it was Ian.

“Should I go let him on or do you wanna do the honors?”

Mickey hoped his eyes were as cold as possible as he walked past her down the stairs.

He couldn’t understand this jittery feeling in his stomach, making its way up to his heat. He wasn’t nervous. There was nothing to be nervous about. It wasn’t a date. And it most definitely wasn’t their second one. Wasn’t there a time span on those, anyways? Four months and you had to start over? He shook his head; he knew he was stalling. The knob was cold under his sweaty palm. He had about two more of those to touch before he got to Ian.

Mickey stilled himself, ready to open the door when he realized Mandy was right behind him. He shook his head again, this time trying not to hear Mandy’s chants on the back of his head. He could feel his head go light as his head spun with questions. What if he was overdressed? What if Ian was overdressed? What if Ian thought it was a date?

But Ian looked great- he always looked great, but he actually put effort into it this time. He was wearing a gray crew neck shirt and dark washed jeans that looked quite new. Ian mentioned him and his brother doing the occasional shoplifting for clothes. Mickey had seemed opposed to it at first but he shrugged at the word “occasionally”. He wasn’t sure what it was about the red head, but he just looked _fresh_ or clean or something and it did nothing to help Mickey’s humming heart at this point.

Ian whistled dramatically as Mickey opened the gate for him. “Wow, very suave. And the shirt really brings out your eyes,” Ian complimented, looking Mickey up and down.

“Shut up,” Mickey snorted, mumbling, “You look good, too” as Ian walked past him to enter. He was sure Gallagher heard him when he heard the smug chuckle frequent to his ears.

“Awwww, look at you two!” Mandy exclaimed as Mickey closed the door behind him, leaving Mandy to pretty much corner them by the door.

Mickey shoved past her and up the stairs. “I have to get a few things and we can leave before she forces us to take pictures or some shit.”

* * *

 

 Everything had been going great. They got to Navy Pier and walked around; it was a pretty calm crowd. It would take people a second to realize that spring was finally here or maybe actually believe that spring was here. Mickey had paid for their tickets to get on rides, and Ian discovered that the swing that went around and around was Mickey’s favorite ride of all. Maybe it was because there was some type of chance that he could be flung from where he sat, but he was caged in and that would never happen. Mickey had forgotten Mandy’s words as he did everything she said they would do. It was ice cream, however, that they end up sharing. Ian loved mint chocolate chip ice cream, the cool sensation two fold. And maybe they did watch the sun set but if Mickey ever asked about it, he’d say it was all coincidental (but he wasn’t sure if that was true).

They’d just gotten off the Ferris Wheel, the girl working at the booth turning away as she let them stay on for two rounds. Ian hadn’t questioned it the way Mickey had. Were they really that obvious? Could she tell that they fucked multiple times? Was that even possible?

Later on they found themselves leaning against the railing of the second floor, staring off at the lights illuminating the darkening sky.

“You may be living all high and mighty, but it’s really shitty,” Ian stated, keeping his eyes on the side view of the Chicago skyline.

The flashing lights danced in his hair, making it a motion of fiery red locks.

“What does that mean?” Mickey asks, actually really interested.

“I mean, sure we have all these lights, but have you seen the stars?” Ian looks up and Mickey follows. They’re greeted by a dark sky with flecks of glitter here and there. “Have you ever been in the country or suburbs at night?” Ian turns to Mickey, waiting patiently for the answer.

Mickey nods. “There were a lot of stars out there, man.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Ian. “It’s incredible! All we have are manmade lights, nothing like the-hey!”He interrupted himself with a memory. He grabbed hold of Mickey’s arm and pulled him closer. Mickey’s heart swelled at that, but he wasn’t sure why.

Ian pointed to the sky, eyes wide and focused. Mickey followed his finger. “Stars move every night, or maybe it’s the position of the earth or some shit, I dunno. But I try to look for them every night.” And with those words, what Ian must have been talking about appears. But it took a lot of focus to see them clearly: a column of three stars. Everything about them were perfect; the spacing, the isolation from the other stars. “I first saw them when I went on a ROTC base trip. It was so weird, you know? Amongst the stars, they stood out.”

Mickey realized how long they’d been looking at the sky when he began to have that free-falling feeling, where the sky takes over your senses and it feels as though the ground is not beneath you. He felt the wind on his face, the drop in his stomach and looked around him immediately. They’d been standing close, shoulder overlapping shoulder- almost to the point where Ian could bracket the rail, entrapping Mickey in front of him.

Before he knew what he was doing, Mickey was backing away, somehow playing off immediately the horrid action. He cleared his throat. “Let’s get on the swings again.” He begged to whatever god he was supposed to beg to and almost sighed in relief as Ian smiled, totally pleased with Mickey’s logic.

The thing was that Mickey was disappointed in himself enough for both of them. He’d wanted the heat of Ian’s chest against his back, and he’d almost didn’t want to pull away. Feeling the breeze rush back to where _he’d_ pulled away from the strong red head had him swearing to himself, almost upset with how much he wanted Ian to be his cage while he fell- no, he wasn’t falling or anything.

* * *

 

 “Are you ready for the ACT?” Ian asked as they walked down the sidewalk to his house. Once they stood in front of his gate, Mickey shrugged. “Just ready to get it over with, really?”

“Well, have you looked at colleges? What are you thinkin’ in terms of goal score?”

“Why the hell are we talkin’ about college right now?” Mickey snapped. “Jesus Christ, you wanna spread out a blanket and look for shooting stars next?” He grinned as Ian did at what would soon become their insider- Mickey knew it.

Ian walked a bit closer, shoulders hitched as his hands were shoved into his pockets. “Just tryin’ to be supportive, you know.”

“Well, thanks Ian, but I’m good.”

Ian nodded silently, releasing his tension slowly as he kept pulling in closer.

Mickey felt his heart stutter, a starting a race on the fly and soon running at full speed toward a finish line that had to be Ian Gallagher’s precious, warm lips. He never wanted a kiss as badly as he did now. The street lights were on, making Ian gleam like an angel in front of heaven’s gates or some religious shit like that. He watched Ian’s lips every second that passed, the anticipation making him forget to breathe. Man how much he loved those lips, the taste, the softness, the teeth behind them that dragged his bottom lip to something Mickey wasn’t used to. There were only centimeters left between them and Mickey was sure that this was how a date should always end, with the build up that did exactly what it was supposed to do. God, Mickey loved-

Mickey pushed away with a gasp, sending Ian back a few steps only to where he’d stood no less than a minute ago, but the amount of distance between the warmth was evident.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mickey hissed?

“Kissing you? Well, I was hoping.”

“But we’re in public.” The words came out so quickly, he almost regretted them.

They were silent, Mickey waiting for Ian’s reaction. It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about this; keep what they do behind the clothes door and sheets underneath them…or the wall behind them or the table under or in front of them.

“Seriously?” Ian was nearly silent, some type of rage that must have been pent up bubbling over and ready to shoot out. “We’re gonna play that secret shit now? WE SPENT A WHOLE FUCKING DAY TOGETHER!” The level at which he was screaming was something unheard by this neighborhood let alone Mickey by himself. “And no one is even fucking out here! What’s your real excuse?”

Mickey wasn’t sure at first how to respond. “Gallagher, we already talked about this. And I live here. What if someone sees me?”

“No one’s going to see, Mickey. No one _cares_!”

“My dad-“

“Your dad is a prick! Bigoted and all types of asshole.”

They were words that Mickey lived by. Words that he was use to thinking to himself as the old man spoke. But hearing someone besides him and Mandy understanding that just wasn’t…right. “Don’t act like you know shit about my dad!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You know, I tried to ignore it when you backed away earlier. I understand you’re not comfortable. But people know. Half my family knows! Aren’t you tired of living a lie?”

Mickey rubbed at his face, desperate for the subject to go away. “Ian, c’mon. This is supposed to be my last day of freedom before I get down to work. I can’t be worried about this shit once Monday rolls around. I can’t and I won’t.”

Ian was silent again, but the pain in his green eyes was piercing. But the rest of him was deathly calm. He nodded his head slowly, already backing away. “I’m pretty sure you’re dad say something like that.”

Ouch. He could feel his heart drop because he was exactly correct. When had he turned into his father? He watched Ian walk off before even that he couldn’t take. He shoved through his gate and through his door, only to find that Terry was sitting there with Mandy, both watching TV.

“Hey,” Mandy greeted cheerily until she noticed Mickey’s expression. She almost asked the question out loud before she thought better not to; the worst thing to do was draw attention while Terry Milkovich was in the room.

But for some reason, Mickey wanted to confront him; tell him off and how he fucked him up, making him afraid to be who he wanted to be with the looming threat of no future hanging over his head. But all he did was run up his stairs. As of now, he was in business mode. Mandy and Ian would be gone until Thursday night. He’d deal with it then.

Deal with his own crazy shit before he dealt with Ian’s crazy shit- _their_ crazy shit. And as of now, Terry Fucking Milkovich was nothing but an obstacle he’d slam through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for a lot of reasons. For not updating, for not making this a good enough chapter. The thing is that, the end is near and I have everything planned out I just need to find the time to actually type it up. Again, sorry.


	13. Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door opens, and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or annoyed by the fact that it’s Mickey Milkovich who comes to the gate. It’s all too amusing, fucking hilarious, to see Mickey walk toward the barred gates, a lock and iron to separate them and the metaphor doesn’t seem to go over either of their heads. He can’t really read Mickey’s expression, but he’s frantic. He normally doesn’t run on emotions, but right now-  
> “I need to see you,” he lets out, the first thing he says after he finds out that his mother is once again in their lives, ready to wreak havoc and thoroughly fuck up the lives of all the children her and his piece of shit father have created.

“It should be illegal to have us go to school this week,” Carmen grumbled, walking next to Mickey down the hall to their first period class. “I’m even rooting for the sophomores! Why the hell are they even here? They’re going to St. Louis in two days and coming back on Thursday. What’s the point?”

Mickey nodded weakly, still feeling drowsiness coursing through his veins hard. He only got thirty minutes of sleep night, mentally preparing himself for this week, then what he’d say to Ian afterwards, once he could finally relax. But he didn’t know what to say. And when he finally let his lids close, he still hadn’t come up with anything. Shit, he didn’t even _remember_ what he thought about. He scolded himself, knowing he should have written it down somewhere.

“Oh right!” Carmen exclaimed, bringing Mickey back to right now. “I’m supposed to ask you if Ian and Mandy are dating.”

Mickey squinted, his vision going blurry from sleep. “Why are you supposed to ask me that?”

“Because someone informed me that they liked Mandy and noticed how much time they spent together and wanted to know if they were kickin’ it.”

“Do they really spend that much time together?” he asked, more to himself and racking his brain through all the time he’s been around Ian- and how much Mandy was around for those memories. Had he set himself up for this? Had made the perfect alibi for himself and Ian without even noticing?

“Yeah. You should, right? You guys spend like almost every Friday together.”

He felt his chest go tight, not really sure why. “Well, nah. They’re not together. But, I think Mandy’s got her eye out for someone else…”

“Oh yeah?  Who?”

Mickey stopped himself short, not wanting to waste what little energy he had on him arguing at his friend for being little too nosey for his taste. He forced a smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” and they continued on to their first period.

* * *

 

Ian was grateful; grateful that Mandy obviously knew something was up between him and Mickey and choosing not to bring it up. Maybe she already knew everything, and was judging him from the sidelines silently. Or maybe she was more focused on their trip- neither of them had been to St. Louis before and she was set on them getting the most out of their day there even though they’d be at colleges for more than half the time.

It was Tuesday before they knew it, and Mandy and Ian were at the Panda Express again, going over lists of everything, where they’d meet up in the morning seeing they had to be at the school by 5 in the morning, what they would bring and all that when Ian sighed and spoke up.

“So, there’s this summer ROTC program I can do since I don’t go to school there anymore. They said they’d be lucky to have me since I was one of their best trainees.”

Mandy nodded, mixed emotions sifting through her eyes. “So, you’re still pretty set on West Point?”

Ian gave no type of recognition of what his answer might be. He just thought and said, “I think that may not be an option now. But there’s always the army…”

“I don’t get the whole army thing, Ian. I mean, yeah, I get there are people who really love their country, but…are you seriously that much of a patriot?”

He gave a short laugh. She could see right through him- she was his best friend, after all. “Well, no. Not exactly. But it’s the order of it, you know? Control and order; the fact that with hard work and dedication and will-power, anything can get done; it’s a thought process many people don’t think about where I’m from, you know? It’s just, when the going gets tough, give you. I’m not one to give up…with anything.”

Mandy watched his face fall. “Or with anyone?” she added, phrasing it as a question so he’d understand that she knew everything.

He gave her a small smile and nodded. “Or with anyone,” he confirmed.

* * *

 

The week flew by, and the tightness in Mickey’s chest grew. He woke up Wednesday morning before his dad. His sister was gone, off to her trip with the guy he…liked…a lot. He woke up that morning and the first thing he thought was, _Don’t think about Ian Fucking Gallagher_. He just broke his first rule of the day.

But it was somewhere during the reading section of the test, where he realized he’d actually went 2 hours without thinking about him, solely focused on the test. The tightening closed in more around his heart. He took in a ragged breath and continued on. That night he got a text. He told himself not to think it was from Ian, maybe saying hey or something, but he couldn’t help himself from hoping. It was Mandy, telling him she hoped he did well and focused on the test.

 _Don’t worry. I did._ He texted back, the tightness closing in more and he took a few deep breaths before falling asleep.

Then Thursday rolled around, and he knew how this day would go; he wasn’t looking forward to it.

After the state exam was over, he found himself in his kitchen, imagining how it could’ve been. Mandy and Ian would walk through that door with their duffle bags. They’d both be tired and really in need of sleep from their amazing time in St. Louis. Ian wouldn’t have to ask; he’d just make his way up to Mickey’s bed, kick off his shoes and tear of his shirt. Mickey would meet him there, climbing into bed with him and ask him of how the trip was while Ian drifted off to sleep. He’d pretend to not notice how Ian’s lashes fluttered when he’d try to stay awake for just a second longer to tell Mickey of how much better it would have been if he was there. Mickey would make a comment of how gay that sounded as Ian wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him into the taller boy until his back was flush against his warm chest. Mickey would protest the spooning with a laugh. But Ian would be asleep by then because of how comfortable it was. Mickey would laugh. He was a strong guy, capable of holding his own. He knew how to make it, how to protect. But the fact that there was someone willing to protect him in every sense of the word, it would seem morbidly amusing to Mickey. Ian would unconsciously nuzzle into the short blond strands, melting them together even more, golden sand against a burning fire. He could imagine all that.

But it was only Mandy to walk through that door, groaning because she really wanted the feel of her own bed again. He watched her trudge up those stairs and slam her door shut.

“How was St. Louis?” he asked to the empty kitchen.

* * *

 

“I swear, it should be a crime for us to be in school today,” Carmen states, and Mickey gets the weirdest yet normal sense of déjà vu. Again, he hasn’t made sleep his priority as he tries and tries to think of the right words to say. What was he even suppose to say? Sorry? But he wasn’t sure what he was sorry for. Or maybe he was sorry for a lot of things. But he’d fallen asleep again, reluctantly, unsure of what he’d say to Ian.

But the day was almost over, at this point, and he’d yet to see Ian. Was he avoiding him or…or what? Again, the sense of déjà vu came. The closing in on his heart was starting to hurt, or maybe he was suffocating. Either way, he wanted to get rid of this feeling and he was pretty sure how. But the only problem was, if he’d be able to find the source to his solution.

* * *

 

 Ian wasn’t really known to run on emotions. He was planned mostly, a lot like his brother but in a different way entirely. But the news caught him off guard: it was a text from Lip with only two words.

 _Monica’s home_.

And he’d gotten off at the next stop, cutting his trip home short. He laughed internally at how planned it seemed. He’d waited out, telling Mandy to head on without her, knowing that Mickey would be there, too, probably. Now he was on the train, and the next stop was Roosevelt.

He ran down the platform, down the stairs, onto the street, and he didn’t stop running, marginally avoiding the busy crowd of people. He found himself in front of a familiar gate, giving almost no thought to his next actions as he rang on the partially broken bell. Mickey and Mandy always told him to text because the bell on worked one way; instead of them being able to respond, they’d have to go outside and check to see who it was.

The door opens, and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or annoyed by the fact that it’s Mickey Milkovich who comes to the gate. It’s all too amusing, fucking hilarious, to see Mickey walk toward the barred gates, a lock and iron to separate them and the metaphor doesn’t seem to go over either of their heads. He can’t really read Mickey’s expression, but he’s frantic. He normally doesn’t run on emotions, but right now-

“I need to see you,” he lets out, the first thing he says after he finds out that his mother is once again in their lives, ready to wreak havoc and thoroughly fuck up the lives of all the children her and his piece of shit father have created.

Mickey is quiet as he opens the gate, as he opens the door and guides Ian into their house. He can feel tightness on his chest that he’s felt before, been able to ignore. But being here, having Mickey stare at him patiently- a trait of all things Mickey _isn’t_ \- he can feel something loosen. Or maybe it’s bubbling over. He hasn’t decided yet.

And Mickey isn’t aware that they’re feeling the same thing. Now is Mickey’s chance. He can say- but fuck, what is he supposed to say?

Mickey decides on the best way to use his lips at this point as he promptly shoves Ian against the door and kissing him with force. To Mickey’s relief, Ian opens up, sighing into the familiar feel of their tongues together. He’s not sure when his fingers have curled into a dangerously tight grip on Ian’s neck, or when Ian’s hands ensnared around Mickey’s waist. But he welcomes the pain, because all he knows now is that it’s been 4 days and he misses Ian like hell. But he can’t find himself to say those words, so he settles for kisses, hands roaming over every inch of missed skin.

They break for a second, and Mickey rests his forehead on Ian’s chest. He takes in heavy breaths, finally feeling the tightness loosen from around his heart, letting him breathe again as he used every lung full of air to take in Ian Gallagher.

Ian uses a finger to lift the chin of Mickey who’s fallen weak on his chest. Their eyes meet, and Ian has calmed down enough to understand what Mickey’s feeling. And it’s like they’re one, feeling relief and relaxation together, desperately needing to say something but not having the right words to say.

Mickey entangles their fingers, dragging Ian all the way up to his bed room, wanting some privacy to say all the things with the words they cannot find. Every pass of their lips as they fall onto his bed- “I’ve missed you. I was stupid and I’d rather admit that than have you away and not be able to know for sure if you’re coming back.” Mickey tears Ian’s shirt away, not waiting to start his rediscovery with every inch of Ian’s body. Where his kisses can’t get to, his hands cover that area. He licks at the freckle covered skin over his abs, sinking in the feel of them clenching at his touch. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of his already undone jeans and boxers, pulling them both down and off in one swoop, eager to continue his exploration. He let his fingers run along the underside of Ian’s hard member, his heart beat racing as it twitched at Mickey’s soft caress. He almost wants to slow down, to take time with the part of Ian that’s made him whole the way the red head himself has managed to make him feel so in the mental and even emotional sense. But he looked to find Ian watching him intently, breath already heavy as he waited for Mickey to carry on.

He started with a lick, following the trail of his fingers before taking the head in his mouth and sucking there. Then began to bob is head, taking in more and more with every downward slide of his tongue and lips. He couldn’t tell if he relished the weight of Ian on his tongue or the feel of Ian’s finger buried in his hair more. They weren’t directing, just there for stability as Mickey focused solely on Ian even though he was becoming unbearably hard himself.

Ian could feel a ball coiling in the pit of his stomach as Mickey’s movements became faster and harder. His hand gripped tighter into the golden tendrils, trying hard to keep from reaching his climax but not wanting Mickey to stop.

Maybe Mickey could hear the stutter in Ian’s breath, or maybe he was just as ready to move as Ian was, but stopped, sucking off with a pop and crawling back up Ian’s body, glittering his body with kisses. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey’s waist, flipping them over so Ian could hover over Mickey, eyes sparking and dazzling like the angel Mickey knew he had to be.

Ian got hold of the lube, and prepared his fingers, unceremoniously sliding them in, but enjoying the look of Mickey’s eyes fluttered shut as Ian plucked every chord, pressed every button to have the smaller boy melt into a mess of writing and shuddering. He added a second, then a third, finger, twisting them all into Mickey’s bundle of nerves. He watched the blond arch off the back, biting his lip (Ian had thought it was to refrain from making noises, but as the moans came through unabashedly, he figured out this was the point where Mickey would be ordering him to hurry the fuck up. Ian smiled, knowing how hard this must have been for Mickey). Mickey’s arms came to wrap around Ian’s neck, hanging there in case he ever wanted to bring the red head in. Ian’s eyes roamed over his skin, how his abs began to clench while Ian’s fingers continued their onslaught. He took Mickey to the edge, waiting and watching for that tell-tale sign that Mickey was 5 seconds from exploding in 5…4…3…2…

Ian released his fingers, quickly gripping the bases of Mickey’s throbbing cock to bring down the inevitable implosion. Mickey finally opened his eyes, blue orbs screaming thanks before he pulled Ian in for a kiss. He didn’t break the kiss while he slicked up his cock. He lined himself up and sank in, drinking in the moan that lasted the entire length of Ian’s entire entrance. Once he was in to the hilt, he licked along a vein protruding in Mickey’s neck, feeling the vibrations of his moan on his tongue. As he slid out, he nuzzled there a bit and bit down hard as he slammed in. He felt Mickey’s hands slide down to hook under his shoulders while his legs wrapped around his waist, pulling in closer. He shifted, cradling Mickey’s head with his forearms as he continued his forceful slams. He stared down at Mickey, memorizing the look of Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed, his lips parted and his expression pained with bliss. Ian picked up the pace a bit and Mickey let his head fall back onto the pillow.

There were still so many things Mickey wanted to say, but every breath was getting knocked out of him, and Ian was so close to that spot; it was like the slow build up on a rollercoaster, riding up slowly and waiting for the drop once you got to the top.

Ian let one of his hands grab onto a pole of the headboard before he dragged out and rolled his hips right into that spot that started the fast fall. He clutched at Ian’s back, his nails digging into the freckled skin, probably breaking skin. The whine came out breathy and he could feel himself clench down on Ian’s cock. That spurred a faster pace until Ian lost all abandon, drilling Mickey and hitting his prostate with brutal accuracy that Mickey only saw white. Mickey was rushing towards to edge and hanging on for dear life. His nails dragged down, unable to stay still while Ian kept going.

Ian accepted the pain taking the way Mickey tore him apart, inside and out.

Mickey wasn’t sure where he found the oxygen, but he held Ian close, fingers moving up to slide in through the short hairs and the back of his neck. “Ian…” he breathed and yelped as Ian picked up the pace more, going well over the speed limit to the edge where his orgasm lied. He repeated his name, this time with a sigh of relief before he clenched around Ian, his orgasm hitting him rather hard, coming untouched. Ian followed, still and as deep as could possibly go while Mickey’s muscles milked him for all he had. He looked back down to blond at the moment he opened his eyes, the realest look he’d ever seen.

He laughed through short gasps of air and fell back to kiss Mickey with abandon, lost in the way his sweaty limbs still held on to his strong, lanky body.

There was a silent knock on the door, more of a warning to give Mickey enough time to get the covers over them. He refused to let Ian go. Mandy poked her head through the door with a proud smile. “I thought I heard make-up sex going on in here.”

“And yet, you decided to come in, anyways,” Mickey barked, still shaky from his very, _very_ recent orgasm.

“Besides,” Ian piped up, bringing Mickey’s attention back to the guy who was going soft in him, still throbbing a bit, “we haven’t even gotten to the make-up sex yet. That’s supposed to be the hard stuff, right?”

Mandy nodded. “Yeah, I can see the start of battle-scars on your back, Ian.”

“Do you fucking mind?!” Mickey sniped, really wanting Mandy to leave so he can bask in his afterglow in peace.

Mandy raised her hands in surrender as she backed off, closing the door.

Mickey sighed, finally letting Ian go to flop next to him. He could feel the absence of Ian within him, but felt more than complete with the worn out red head by his side.

They soaked in the silence for a while before Ian spoke. “Monica came back. Ready to fuck up our lives as best she can.” Mickey looked to him, letting him continue. “Lip and Fiona have more to worry about, though. They lived with her longer, they know more and understand more about how much she fucks up. I only remember…” he sighed. “You know, she left our dad for a chick. That’s the last we heard from her. She was off being a lesbian. We’re alike.”

Mickey smiled. “You like pussy all of a sudden?”

Ian smiled back and shook his head. “Nah, man. But wasn’t afraid. She just did her own thing. I don’t want to hate her. She can understand…well, when she finds out, that is.” He rolled over on his side, facing Mickey but not looking at his face. “I’m not ashamed. I just wish the guy I l…” he trailed off, not wanting to use the L-word and possibly frightening the Milkovich boy. “I just wish felt the same.”

Mickey’s chest hurt just as much as his head. It wasn’t the suffocating feeling. It was the feeling of the heart expanding, swelling because he didn’t what to say but he knew how he felt. He wished he could feel so unashamed like the guy he l…

Mickey grabbed his hand, placing their palms together and in front of their faces so they could both see the way their fingers entwined with each others. He knew he couldn’t do shit about speaking; he was quite horrible at expressing himself with actual words, but touching, actions, he could do. And maybe the swelling in his heart was partially fear as wondered if he’d ever be able to say the words aloud.

Fingers still entangled, he rolled closer to Ian, sliding into a kiss that hopefully got his point across. He wanted Ian to not give up, to not get tired of the fact that Mickey may always have to express his love through touches, kisses, actions. Oh God.

He just thought of love.

Ian pressed back, simultaneously promising that he’d never give up; he never went down without a fight.

* * *

 

 All they knew about the time was that it was close to sunset.

“Mickey!” he heard Mandy yell from outside his room. “Get down here!”

He grumbled, shuffling to walk out and glancing back at the sleeping red head before closing the door.

When he got down the stairs, he was greeted by his father, sitting casually at the counter in the kitchen. Mandy stood near the stairs. He hadn’t even heard his dad come in. “What’s up?”

Mandy looked to her dad. “Tell him what you told me, dad.”

Terry nodded. “So, I was bringing up the possible scenario of me getting remarried, starting a new family.”

Mickey snorted, leaning back against the rail of the stairs and crossing his arms. “Aren’t you near fifty?” When Terry shrugged, Mickey added on, “Besides, what’s wrong with the family you got?”

“You both are almost grown and out of the house. Time to start thinkin’ about what I want; what makes me happy.”

“And making our lives hell doesn’t make you happy?” Mickey hears himself blurt out. It’s not the first time that he’s expressed his disdain for his father, but never so forwardly.

Terry laughed. “You sound like your mother. You know, we were headed down this path if she were still alive. Our deal was that, once Mandy graduated, we were separating.”

The words came with such ease- that was one issue their mom had with Terry, his bluntness about topics that she thought they shouldn’t worry about. Well, this was definitely one of those topics.

But it made Mickey laugh. Hysterically. “Hold on,” he said when he finally cooled down a second. But he felt he should reiterate his statement, just in case no one would listen to him. “No, hold the _fuck_ up.” He saw the wide eyed expression on Terry’s face a moment before he was running up the stairs and to his room.

“Ian,” he said softly, as if he wasn’t in the process of going mental. Ian stirred while Mickey began to put on his clothes. “Ian, we have to go. Get your clothes on.”

Even through the cover of calmness, Ian sensed an urgency that had him making a quick work of putting himself back together as much as he could. Once he and Mickey were done, he followed Mickey down the stairs. He almost doubled back when he saw Terry sitting at the counter in the kitchen, but everyone else seemed aware of it.

They stood there in silence, a mix of emotions clouding the air. Mandy stood, watching her brother with caution as the electricity began to fill his eyes again. It all made perfect sense to Mickey now. This was the plan all along, to get rid of, to forget about the weak links of the litter. He knew that, as soon as Terry was wifed up again or the equivalent, Mandy and Mickey would be lost to him. But the original plan was for their mother to make up for the shortfall, the lack of support.

“Ian and I,” he started, his voice terse and sharp, “like each other a lot, like, _a lot_ a lot. And we all knew this day would happen, right? The day where Mickey Milkovich fucks up _so_ majorly- or, as in this case, _gets_ _fucked_ majorly.” He smiles to Terry, letting the full meaning of those words sink in. “And, uh, since I’m so much like my mother, I guess I can continue her legacy and _leave_ this shithole.” He places his hand, palm up, in front of Ian. When Ian stares at it, confused, Mickey shouts, “Hold my hand, you stupid fuck!” and Ian grabs it instantly, letting himself be lead toward the stairs. He stops at the top and turns. “And to think I almost felt _sorry_ for the things I’ve said over the years.” He gives a laugh then and sighs. “Fuck it.” They walk down the stairs.

“Mickey!” he hears Mandy wail to him, following him down the stairs. “Mickey, wait!” The tears have come and there’s no way their stopping. He turns to her, all ready to sooth her.

“Hey, hey…Mands…” he caresses her cheek, wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Just give me a few days, ok? I just need to…”

Mandy nods, understanding without Mickey having to say so aloud. She can feel the tears coming as he gives her a peck on the forehead and walks out the door, taking her best friend along with him.

* * *

 

 Mickey isn’t sure how he feels once they’re walking toward the train station.

“You seriously came out, huh?” Ian asks. Adding on in his head, _to the one guy that mattered most_. He doesn’t have to say that part because Mickey knows what he means.

Mickey glances at Ian. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start wearin’ a fuckin’ dress,” he clips, referencing what his dad thought of gays in general.

“Nobody fuckin’ asked you to.” He stared down at their hands together and how Mickey was still gripping for dear life. Ian squeezed back. “Though, you do have great legs.”

Mickey smiles before giving a laugh. His grip loosens a bit. “You’re a fuckin’ dick.”

And they both laugh, walking up the stairs to the train station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the next chapters the last and this has been awesome ^_^ not even gonna lie, this was my favorite chapter to write.


	14. Mythbuster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Again, Mickey wasn’t much for crying. It was yet another trait he got from his father, and his mother hated it. But she always said save the tears for someone who deserved them. He took in a deep breath, inhaling the cleanliness of Ian; the soap, the faint cloak of cigarette smoke, the sweetness. He took in all the smells of his chest as he opened up completely, something he hasn’t done since his mother died."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short and cheesy >.

When Mandy was just a couple years younger, her father decided to sit her down and talk about love.

Mandy was sure she’s seen love a few times; with her friends’ parents. Most of them were pretty affectionate towards each other- unlike _her_ parents. Terry wasn’t much for affection at all. And she was sure that, from the conversation he had with her, love wasn’t real. It was a conditional concept no matter what people want you to believe. Everything has a limit. Even life itself. Everything must come to an end like every living being on this planet. And the love you were sure would last forever has burned away with your ashes.

But Mandy refused to believe that. It was the first time she ever openly disagreed with Terry. She was quick to tell him he was wrong- a death sentence if there ever was one. And she couldn’t possibly tell him of the experiences she had out there in the real world that he spoke so lowly of. She could speak now, however. As she walked back up the stairs minutes after Mickey had closed the door to way may be his old life, she knew then- even if neither of them could say it out loud just yet- they were in love.

She didn’t have to say anything, though. She knew she didn’t. Looking into blue eyes, colder than hers, she continued walking- past the smug smirk and the indifference and condescension that was her father- up the stairs and to her room. She’d call tomorrow; just to make sure things were going fine.

* * *

 

“How’s everything going over there?” Lip could hear her speaking softly through the phone.

“First day down,” he mumbled, trying his hardest for the cozy couple sitting on the floor not to notice that he was talking to about them. Mickey sat back against Ian, legs crossed and folded, while Ian had his arms wrapped around his waist and chin rested against the smaller boy’s shoulder. His lips trembled as if he was saying something in Mickey’s ear consistently, but nothing could be heard over the racket in their house.

When Mickey entered the Gallagher house, there was an unfamiliar cloud of tension and darkness seeping through every crevice. That was when he met the infamous Monica Gallagher, the underlined reason of why Ian had came to him just hours before.

Monica hadn’t noticed them, however. The blond, frantic woman was arguing with the very drunken man that had to be Frank. Before he understood what was happening, he knew then why Ian had came to him. He was aware of the storm that would come with either- let alone _both_ \- parents involved.

But it wasn’t just the parents fighting. Fiona was there, too. Her tear streaked face was contagious, and though Mickey wasn’t much for crying, he could feel a deepening sadness within himself; a tired consumed that radiated off the overworked 21 year old. When she mentioned Ian, noticing his arrival without having to actually _see_ , the woman finally turned to look and saw Ian. That’s where Ian got the puppy dog eyes from. They really did look alike, and he almost wanted to feel bad for her, too. Though she seemed to be the villain to some extent.

Ian started tugging Mickey up to his room, maybe not wanting Mickey to see it or so he wouldn’t have to see it for himself. They didn’t talk as they stripped of their outer clothes and settled into Ian’s tiny twin size bed. Ian didn’t hesitate to slide his arm around Mickey’s waist and pull him in incredibly closer, protecting Mickey.

Again, Mickey wasn’t much for crying. It was yet another trait he got from his father, and his mother hated it. But she always said save the tears for someone who deserved them. He took in a deep breath, inhaling the cleanliness of Ian; the soap, the faint cloak of cigarette smoke, the sweetness. He took in all the smells of his chest as he opened up completely, something he hasn’t done since his mother died.

He started off still, so still that Ian didn’t noticed Mickey started crying until he felt the warmth of his tears soaking through his shirt. His only response to it was to hold Mickey tighter, if that was even possible, and rub his back; the same way Fiona would do when he was younger and he was really sad. That’s when the un-foretold hurricane came. With every heavy breath that Mickey let go, he cried harder; for one, he may have just disowned his father, and two, Ian chose to protect Mickey when there was a battle going on in his living room. Regardless of how many times the battle has been fought, someone always ends up hurt, and Ian chose to put Mickey first.

Maybe Ian understood everything, or maybe he was lost, but he just knew that Mickey had done something incredible and he’d always have his back.

And he kept that in mind the next day, as they were playing video games and he wrapped himself around Mickey, who had a massive headache from his river of tears, keeping him as close as possible, whispering into his ear anything he thought would keep Mickey calm.

Lip watched as Ian’s eyes roamed the blonde’s profile with intensity before he turned to press soft kisses to his milky skin. He watched Mickey’s shoulders rise as he took in a deep breath before he turned to meet Ian’s lips for another soft kiss that lasted longer than maybe it should; a questioningly long time that Lip almost felt intrusive. He looked away, returning to his conversation with Mandy. “We’ve been walking on eggshells pretty mu-“ he stopped when he heard clatter in the kitchen that rang louder than the terse arguments going back and forth “Well, _most_ of us have been walking on eggshells all morning around them.” He chanced another glance to find them back to their initial position with Ian still whispering into Mickey’s ear. “They’ve been in their own little world since they got here.”

Mandy smiled from her end, only imagining how her best friend and brother could have been right at that moment. “Do you think they’ll last?”

Lip was hesitant to answer, looking back at the ironically content bundle on the floor. “I’m not the best person to answer that. I’ve yet to see a one that’s actually lasted- I mean, besides Kev and Vee.” He found himself wanting to sound hopeful for them.

Mandy heard Lip chuckle on the under end and it sparked her curiosity. “What’s so funny?”

“I think us Gallaghers attract rich people.” He laughed again, quietly.

Mandy’s heart beat picked up. “Oh do you, now?”

Lip stopped at the tone in her words. Did he seriously just- “Uh…I just meant…um”

Her giggle sent a wave of something he’s never felt before through his veins. “Philip Gallagher rendered speechless? I feel like I just slayed a massive dragon there.”

He gave a small smile. “I should probably get back and play damage control or something.”

“Wait!” She called out in a whisper. It made Lip feel like he was sneaking around, and the normalcy of the scene freaked him out as much as it made him feel… _normal_. “Do you think they love each other?”

He knew fuck all about being in love. But the way her voice had so much hope, he had to answer somehow. “If they do…they’d be the first that I know of.” He could contend with that answer.

And by the sound of her voice, she could, too. “Thank you.”

“Bye.”

Lip was a genius. He knew about biology, mathematics, the streets. But he knew little about being in love. Sure, he could go into the science of it; the pheromones and physical, but the actual _feeling_ \- he didn’t understand. Watching Ian soothe Mickey of his troubles- whatever they may be- he only wanted to understand more. What was it that made them forget everything around them and only see each other, feel each other? What was it that made them comfort so effortlessly, so unconditionally? In science, love was conditional- to an extent; because being in love- love, in general- rooted from somewhere, and things that have roots, a beginning, have an end.

* * *

 

“I’m gonna have to go back,” Mickey whispered, barely audible. He closed his eyes as Ian pressed yet another soft kiss to the base of his neck, fearful of Mickey getting too riled up. “I can’t leave Mandy there to deal with _him_.”

“Don’t worry about it right now. Just…don’t…worry.” He spoke between kisses. He needed Mickey to keep it together. He was the only reason why Ian wasn’t up in his room with Debbie and Carl while the shitstorm was rolling through their kitchen. Ian gave all of his sanity to Mickey and he needed Mickey to hold onto it for the both of them. He continued pressing soft kisses, hoping that Mickey could keep it together for the both of them. Just for today; maybe tomorrow; maybe ‘til next week.

Mickey needed more. He turned to catch Ian’s lips, sighing into them and feeling Ian press forward, making them lean to the side and Mickey smiled. He collected enough strength to push back with as much eagerness, to tell Ian with his lips what he couldn’t with his words. He still wasn’t good with his words. Neither of them was, really. They were both just in need of a assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks for reading ^_^ hope you enjoyed it...or...not...but I hope you did.

**Author's Note:**

> The school I'm writing about is down the street from my school.  
> I'm only going off the very limited information I know about their system since they're a magnet school and I'm a charter school  
> Everything else is pretty much real about Chicago: the places, people, everything else.


End file.
